


Those Magic Changes My Heart Arranges

by nubianamy



Series: There All the Honour Lies [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Closeted Character, Coming Out, High School, M/M, Masturbation, Phone Sex, Reading Aloud, Shakespeare, Theatre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-15
Updated: 2013-01-03
Packaged: 2017-11-21 05:23:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 120,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/593929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nubianamy/pseuds/nubianamy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt's neighbor convinces him to do summer theater with her during the summer before his freshman year. Noah Puckerman, serving detention, is there to build the sets - and proves himself to be quite a distraction.  Puck/Kurt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Summer 2008

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired this summer to plot a Glee story paralleling the musical Grease. This was long before Glease had been forecast. Once I discovered that was coming, I decided I'd better start writing it. It turned into something much bigger and more complex than a simple Grease story. My objective was to see if I could write a Puckurt love story, encompassing the entire storyline of Kurt's experience at McKinley, without interfering with existing events on the show. This means Kurt still doesn't get his first kiss until Season 2. It's been interesting to write another parallel story while trying not to trample on the territory already covered by the Donutverse (which is still on hold, so thank you for your patience).
> 
> As always, music is a big part of my inspiration. I'll post links to songs that occur in the story, but you might enjoy [listening to the entire soundtrack](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLc72s_nGT2yTbOVLDEL6xZzHeGaZyxzXQ) as you read. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this sweet, angsty story of friendship and love between Kurt and Noah. 
> 
> -amy

 

**Summer 2008**

Kurt appreciated that his neighbor Andrea was still nice to him even though he was in eighth grade and she was a junior. He knew it wasn't because he was all that awesome, but simply because they'd known one another since they'd been kids. She'd moved into the neighborhood when Kurt was six. She was ten when her parents bought the house across the street, and small and quiet like Kurt. They'd bonded over tea parties and Powerpuff Girls, and she'd taught Kurt how to do an adequate time step, and he'd shown her how to twirl a baton. She'd been an enormous support to him when his mother had died.

Even though they seldom played together anymore, at least when she talked to him he could trust that action not to contain any malicious intent. She approached him after school one day, smiling. He was startled to realize he was taller than she was.

"What's your plan for the summer?" she asked.

"Trying to avoid being roped into changing oil at the garage." Kurt shrugged. "Staying up too late watching Project Runway reruns. You know, the usual."

Her smile was personal and held the promise of excitement, and he couldn't help smiling back, even though he had no idea why. "What would you think about getting on the stage?"

"You mean an actual stage?" He felt his smile disappear. "Sounds like a clear route to harassment."

"It's summer theater, Kurt. People are different over the summer. They don't treat each other the same way that they do at school. It's like it is in the neighborhood." Andrea cocked her head, tossing her ponytail over her shoulder. "Think about it, okay? Auditions are next week. You'd have a great time."

Kurt supposed he would. The idea of being on stage wasn't the scary part. He could get up in front of a bunch of people and make a fool of himself with aplomb. It was the backstage stuff, the cliques and catty conversations and the effort it would take to make a place for himself in a new social group. All of those things always ended up being way more work than they were worth. It was better just to stick with his few friends than to bother trying to put himself out there and risk getting targeted.

But all the next day - in the middle of his history test, and as he was listening to students in science present about noble gases, and while waiting in line for lunch - Kurt imagined what it might be like to go into high school already being part of something bigger. It wasn't going to be organized sports, and there was no way he had enough social capitol to join the cheerleading squad.  _Maybe... maybe this could be good,_ he thought. _Maybe it could mean something_.

He went over to Andrea's house when he got home that day. She was sitting in the gazebo in her backyard, reading a book. He knocked, and she looked up.

"Okay," he said through the screen door, taking a deep breath. "I'll do it."

"Awesome," she said, grinning. "You won't regret it."

 _Famous last words,_  he thought, but he grinned back, and when he walked into his house, the first thing he did was write  _auditions for Grease_  on the calendar for next Thursday.

"What's this, Kurt?" his dad asked at dinner, while getting the milk out of the fridge. "An audition?"

Kurt waved a dismissive hand. "Andrea convinced me I should do this community theater thing with her this summer. I don't know... it could be awful. It's worth a shot, anyway."

"That's at the Encore, right? You think you can get a ride there with Andrea?"

"Or I could take my bike. It's only about a fifteen minute ride." He shrugged, pouring himself a glass of milk. "I probably won't get in, anyway."

"Hey, of course you will." His dad put a hand on Kurt's arm. "I can't think of anybody more deserving of a part than you. You know if we had the money for music lessons, I'd give it to you."

"Don't worry about it, Dad. I don't need anybody to teach me how to sing. I just need a chance to be part of something." He smiled, trying to project the confidence he didn't feel inside. "It'll be great, I know it."

* * *

It wasn't anything close to great. It was, in fact, a complete nightmare.

"All of these kids hate me," he hissed at Andrea as they edged their way through the door, past a mob of squealing, laughing high school students. "I'm like the bubblegum under the desk. They're just going to scrape me off and make faces when I stick to their nails."

"One step at at a time, Kurt." She grabbed two audition forms from the table and handed one to Kurt. "Don't forget to write what part you sing."

 _Like that's not going to make me feel nervous._  He scribbled  _treble, C4-A5._ "How many other boys' voices haven't changed by freshman year?"

"Not the point. Mrs. Wright will be intrigued. She'll want to hear you, and that'll get you in the door. And you're adorable."

Kurt made a face. He didn't want to be  _adorable._  He knew he still had plenty of baby fat left and a stupid set of dimples and wimpy, flabby arms. He also knew embarrassingly well how the other boys' bodies had changed, and how little his own body measured up to other incoming freshmen.

Case in point: Noah Puckerman, slouching against the wall by the audition table, muscular arms crossed and face scowling. Kurt would have categorized him in the stoner group in eighth grade, but he'd already been approached for junior varsity football next year. That would mean he would cross over into the jock group, making him even more dangerous and unpredictable. Mostly Kurt had managed to stay under Noah's radar by taking honors and fine arts classes, but he knew he was a prime target to be bullied by this boy.

"What's he doing here?" he whispered, eyeing Noah. Andrea barely gave him a glance.

"I don't know. I'm surprised to see him, actually. He's been gone the last two summers. You want to run through the song with me?"

It was just "We Go Together," which Kurt could sing in his sleep, but they worked up some basic choreography to make it fun. It drew a little more attention than Kurt had anticipated, and by the time they were done, laughing and breathless, they had three high school girls standing next to them.

"That was good," said the one with braids. "Can you show us how to do it?"

Kurt gulped back his fear and taught her the hand jive, then Andrea walked them through the steps. They seemed nice enough, not interested in making fun of Kurt or making jokes about him being Andrea's boyfriend. By the time Mrs. Wright summoned them to stand in line for the auditions, he'd learned their names (Shondelle, Veronica and Harriet) and they knew his, and he thought maybe he would survive the summer.

"We're going to get started," called Mrs. Wright, raising her hand for quiet. Her smile was enthusiastic, but firm, and she quelled a few of the more raucous noisemakers with a stern look. "My name's Mrs. Wright. No, you may not call me Barbara. I've got all your names somewhere in the back of my head, but don't freak out if I accidentally call you by your big brother or sister's name. I've been doing this for way too long and sometimes I get a little senile."

The kids giggled. Mrs. Wright couldn't be a lot older than forty, so Kurt was sure her longevity in community theater had to be an exaggeration.

"I've done  _Grease_  before with this group, back in the stone ages, and we had a blast, but it's a challenging show in a lot of ways. I'm looking for some dynamic dancers, some loud, enthusiastic singers and some over-the-top comedians. You know who you are."

There were a few not-so-subtle catcalls from the back where the upperclassmen were gathered.

"You're going to come up in groups of four and sing the song. I'll call the groups, so don't bother to try making your own." Then she turned to Noah, who was slumped on the floor against the wall, rhythmically throwing a ball against the corner and catching it on the bounceback. "Did you decide if you're participating or not, Noah?"

"Nope," he said, not looking up from the ball.

"Fine. Your fate grows worse with every moment you resist. First group of four, front and center? Veronica, Kurt, Marcy and Michael."

Kurt glanced at Andrea in panic, but she just shoved him forward, whispering, "You're awesome. Go show her."

Veronica gave him an encouraging smile, but it was Andrea's words he hung onto. Kurt imagined himself standing before a famous director on the Broadway stage, and took a deep breath before putting on his show face.

_We go together like_  
_rama lama lama_  
_ke ding a de dinga a dong_  
_remembered for ever like  
_ _shoo bop shoo wadda wadda yipitty boom de boom..._

There was a halfhearted round of applause when they were done. Noah was still sitting on the floor staring at the corner.

"Nice job," Mrs. Wright called. "Next four."

Kurt watched everyone else sing and dance with a sense of unreality. Most of them were pretty okay, with a few stand-outs in either direction. Andrea was better than average, he was glad to see, and Kurt thought maybe he might be, too.

"What do you think?" Shondelle whispered to Harriet. "I think Michael would be a great Danny."

"Michael's a douche," Noah said, loud enough for Mrs. Wright to give them an annoyed look. He still didn't look up from the path of the ball as it traveled from his hand to the wall. "Wright would never cast him. She's all about the teamwork and shit. Plus he can't hit the high A in  _Summer Nights._  It'll be Henry. Michael will get Kenickie, and he'll complain about it for the whole fucking summer."

"Language, Noah," called Mrs. Wright, her own eyes steady on the current group of four.

Kurt stared at Noah until he whipped around to stare back, furious and hateful. "What?" he snapped, and Kurt looked away in a hurry.

When the cast list went up, Kurt eventually noticed his own name under  _Chorus,_  and he hugged Andrea for getting the part of Jan. But the first thing he saw was Henry's name beside  _Danny Zukko,_  and Michael's next to  _Kenickie,_  and he found himself wondering about Noah Puckerman. Noah's name was listed under the word  _Set Design._

Kurt didn't see Noah for the rest of the afternoon, until just before they wrapped it up for the day. Mrs. Wright was discussing the format of rehearsals when there was a scuffling and shouting by the door. Kurt heard Noah's voice emerge, raised in conflict with one of the juniors. It escalated to a screaming match. Finally he grabbed a chair, threw it against the wall and stormed out the back door in a blaze of epithets.

"I'd be suspended for six weeks for talking like that at school," Harriet said, glancing nervously at Andrea.

"I think  _this_  is his suspension," Andrea said. "This is his summer death sentence. And he picked set design over a part in the musical."

"What a waste," Kurt murmured.

Andrea looked at him. "What was that?"

"Nothing," he said.

As they were getting into Andrea's car to drive home, Kurt caught sight of Noah sitting on the roof. He didn't think that was the safest thing for Noah to be doing, but then, throwing chairs wasn't high on the list either.

"I wonder what he did," Andrea said. Kurt saw her gazing up at the roof, too. "I doubt he'd tell anybody, but I can probably find out."

Kurt decided he'd rather wait until Noah was ready to say it out loud to him directly. Somebody who got that angry wasn't worth pissing off.

* * *

"Kurt," said Mrs. Wright the next day. He looked up from his script.

"Ma'am?"

"I mostly wanted to say welcome to the cast," she said. "It's your first summer, and I'm always glad to see new performers. You've got a lot of potential."

"Thank you," he said, feeling the thrill of being noticed. "I'm glad Andrea talked me into it. I mean, not that I wouldn't have done it on my - um. Thanks."

"In addition, I was hoping we could talk to your father about getting a prop for Greased Lightnin'. We need a car."

"A car," he repeated.

"Yes, or the body of one. Something with actual wheels would be best, but anything that could be made to look shiny and chrome-covered." She gazed at him expectantly. "You think your dad could come up with something like that?"

"I'll - talk to him," he managed.

"Great." She gave him a nod and wandered away, probably to ask insane questions of another freshman. He sighed, rubbing his forehead. When he looked up, Noah was smirking at him.

"What do you want?" Kurt demanded.

"She's using you for your auto shop connection," he said.

Kurt drew himself up. "Maybe I actually deserve to be on the stage."

Noah shrugged, looking away. "Sure you do. Doesn't mean she's not using you."

"Yeah, well, who are you to talk?" Kurt shot out, stung. "You're too chicken to get up on the stage at all. That's why you're hiding behind that oh-so masculine hammer and nails. Don't think I don't hear you singing along when we're rehearsing."

"You don't know jack about me," Noah spat at him.

"I know you're scared of something." Kurt sniffed. "Boys always are. Maybe you're afraid you can't cut it. Maybe you're failing geometry. Whatever."

Noah stared at him. Then he looked away, directing his gaze at the floor.

"Lit & Comp," he said.

"What?" said Kurt.

"I failed. Eighth grade literature and composition. The class." He cracked his neck. "Fucking cocksuckers. I have to retake the class this summer in independent study with Mrs. Wright, which apparently means I have to build her fucking sets for her, or I don't go to high school."

"You could have just auditioned," Kurt said. Noah scowled.

" _What fates impose, that men must needs abide;  
__It boots not to resist both wind and tide,"_  he muttered, and stalked away.

Kurt looked the lines up later at lunch, and read the rest of act 4, scene 3 of Shakespeare's  _Henry VI, Part 3_  while eating his celery sticks. Andrea peered over his shoulder. "What's that?"

"Why would Noah Puckerman know Shakespeare?" he mused. Andrea grinned, unwrapping her egg-salad sandwich.

"That's easy. His mother sent him to theater camp last two summers. I hear he was getting into too much trouble at soccer camp." She took a bite and chewed thoughtfully. "He's good, but he'd still rather pitch a fit than play by the rules."

"Doesn't play well with others, huh?" Kurt watched Noah across the room, reaching to prop up a board with one slim, tanned arm while he nailed it in place with precise hammer strokes.

"Pretty, though," she said, and her grin broadened to a laugh as he turned horrified eyes on her. "Relax. I won't say anything."

Kurt wasn't surprised Andrea had figured it out. It was a little terrifying, but he trusted Andrea not to talk. But  _Noah Puckerman?_  Apparently his own taste was significantly in question. He frowned all afternoon at the very idea, and when Noah took off his shirt later that day to work only in his tank top, Kurt refused to take even the tiniest peek.

* * *

As the summer went on, Kurt began to understand the pecking order among the Encore theater group. Andrea had been correct; it wasn't anything like it was at school. In the top tier were the kids who'd been participating since they were in middle school. Some of them were good and others were only mediocre, but they all had egos the size of small cities and stuck with their clique. Underneath them were the actual thespians, most of whom were loners, like Andrea. They were all pretty nice to Kurt, and to each other, but he wasn't getting warm and fuzzy BFF feelings from any of them. They were actually here to perform, not to have a good time. The next tier was a bunch of students, mostly guys, who apparently were only there to get in the pants of one or more of the other performers. At the bottom were the newcomers, like Kurt.

And then there was Noah. He seemed determined to elude categorization, maybe because one of the top tier sophomores would come backstage every couple hours and make out with him against the speaker stacks. The first time Kurt walked in on them, he stammered an apology and backed away, fleeing with a red face. When Andrea asked him what he'd seen, he wasn't even sure what to say, stammering out a few words including  _Noah_  and  _Kim_  and  _kissing._

"It's  _theater,_  Kurt," she said, shaking her head. "Everybody fools around with everybody else. You're going to have to get over yourself. You're in high school now."

After that, Kurt tried not to make a big deal about it, but it was still embarrassing. Andrea did seem to be right. Every time he caught a glimpse of a guy with his hand on a girl's thigh, or a girl leaning over to give a guy a look down her shirt, he wondered if he would ever get a chance to be part of that world. Not that he wanted to get a glimpse down  _anybody's_  shirt, but...

 _Everybody fools around with everybody else,_  he thought. Even the guys he would have sworn up and down and sideways were gay and closeted were still groping and laughing with  _girls._  This made zero sense to Kurt. He felt uneasy, and he wasn't sure how to handle it. Sometimes it was easier just to laugh and go along with it, but most of the time he just couldn't deal with the way everybody was so  _comfortable_  touching each other.

Kurt found himself hiding out under the stairwell behind the stage door one afternoon, singing the chorus part to  _Summer Nights_  under his breath, when he heard the strum of a quiet guitar. It was an electric guitar and it hadn't been plugged in, so the tune was tinny and muffled, but he could hear it clearly enough in the quiet hallway. It took him a few minutes of listening before he recognized the tune. It certainly wasn't from  _Grease._  Before he thought about it, he began to sing along:

<http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PYBqv3NIqho>

_We skipped the light fandango_  
_Turned cartwheels 'cross the floor_  
_I was feeling kinda seasick  
_ _But the crowd called out for more..._

The guitarist faltered, paused, then continued, and Kurt emerged from his hiding place to find out who was playing.

_The room was humming harder_  
_As the ceiling flew away_  
_When we called out for another drink  
_ _And the waiter brought a tray_

Kurt stopped ten feet away from Noah, who was picking out the melody on the strings, and waited to see what he would do. Noah didn't stop playing again, and he met Kurt's eyes momentarily as he began singing the chorus.

_And so it was that later_  
_As the miller told his tale_  
_That her face, at first just ghostly,  
_ _Turned a whiter shade of pale_

Noah had a nice voice, not distinguished, but competent and pleasant to hear, and he sang tunefully and with an apparent wide range. Kurt found himself grudgingly impressed.

"How do you know that song?" he asked.

"My dad," Noah said. "He inflicted plenty of seventies ballads on me when I was growing up. How about you?"

"My dad's favorite movie is  _The Big Chill,"_  said Kurt. He sat tentatively on the floor across from Noah, watching how his hands never ceased playing, even as they were having what felt like an ordinary conversation. "How do you talk and play the guitar at the same time?"

"Dunno. It's not hard." Noah didn't say this like he was bragging, just like it was true.

"My dad says the meaning behind the lyrics are a matter of great speculation."

"There's this one verse, Procul Harum sings it on this concert recording we have." Noah leaned a little further forward, concentrating on the words, and Kurt found himself leaning toward him, too, a convergence of minds:

_If music be the food of love_  
_then laughter is its queen_  
_and likewise if behind is in front_  
_then dirt in truth is clean_  
_My mouth by then like cardboard_  
_seemed to slip straight through my head_  
_So we crash-dived straightway quickly  
_ _and attacked the ocean bed_

"Weird," Kurt said. "I mean, kind of random Shakespeare line."

"I know, right? Like, what's  _Twelfth Night_  doing in a song that's totally about Chaucer..." Noah seemed to see Kurt staring at him, and he closed his mouth with an almost audible snap. His face was red, and he wouldn't make eye contact with him.

Kurt's mind was racing. "You said you flunked literature and composition."

"Yeah, so what? Fuck you."

"No, I mean - you seem to know a lot about Shakespeare, and The Canterbury Tales..."

Noah scowled at the tile in front of him. "I guess."

"So I'm just wondering why you failed, if you -"

"Fuck this shit, Hummel." Noah scrambled to his feet, holding his guitar aloft, and strode away down the hall, storming past Andrea. She stood there watching him go, looking more amused than anything else, then came over to hold a hand out to Kurt.

"Come on, Wright is looking for all of us for the dance at the end of act one. You okay?"

Kurt realized, in all that bizarre interaction, he hadn't realized Noah knew his name until just that moment. It made him feel a little lightheaded. "I think so," he said. "Talking to Noah. He's really talented, but kind of crude. It just... it got to me, I guess."

He caught Noah later, sullen-faced and refusing to answer a patient Mrs. Wright, who was pushing a notebook into his hand. "Whatever you want to write about," she was insisting. "That's what a journal is for."

"I don't care. I'm not doing a stupid journal." He crossed his arms and refused to take the notebook. "You can make me take your stupid class as many times as you want. I'll build your goddamn sets, but you can't make me write a word."

Mrs. Wright looked understandably annoyed by this altercation, and she was the one to walk away from Noah. She sighed when she saw Kurt.

"How does one have a literature and composition class without writing, Kurt?" she asked.

He was startled into a response. "When one composes music, perhaps?"

"Oh." She paused, thinking, but shook her head. "Creative, but... sadly, I can't do it. He needs to prove competency for the standardized test." She considered him. "You took it last year. How did you do?"

"I got an A," he said, not bothering to sound modest. "Mr. Harding liked my written test. Said it showed depth of understanding."

"Well, you and Noah seemed to get along. How'd you like to tutor him?"

Kurt stared at her. "You want me to tutor Noah Puckerman?" He wondered in what universe Noah would he allow this to happen.

But she was nodding. "Yes, absolutely. Noah's not responding to a teacher's intervention. Maybe he'd listen to a student. He's bright and bored and you'd be doing me a favor." Her own sudden smile lit up her face. "And I noticed you enjoy the choreography. I could use a student co-director for some of the ensemble dance scenes."

He was momentarily speechless before blurting, "Of course, yes, I'd be happy to." Then he wanted to kick himself, because what the hell was he thinking, volunteering to help Noah with something he clearly hated.

He said as much to Andrea, later, but she just shook her head. "You don't have to make him like it," she said. "You just have to help him pass. And Kurt, student co-director?"

Kurt had to admit that sounded like an amazing opportunity, but he was suspicious. "Noah said Wright was using me for my auto shop connection. Do you think she's just using me here for my A in Lit/Comp?"

"Maybe." She shrugged. "So what? The fact is, you're still talented enough to do this. Who cares how you got there?"

Kurt realized Noah had told him nearly the same thing. He felt a shivering tingle at the idea that Noah thought he deserved to be on the stage. He hadn't laughed at Kurt's attempt to sing Procul Harum, either. "I guess," he agreed.

He couldn't bring himself to talk to Noah about it in person, though, and found himself sitting after dinner that night at home, staring at the phone number Mrs. Wright had given him. It took him three tries to punch in the number without disconnecting the call. When he finally let it connect, he thought for a moment he'd gotten the wrong number, because the voice on the other end was definitely not Noah.

"Hello?"

Kurt lost his nervousness upon hearing the child's voice. "Hi, my name's Kurt. I'm calling for Noah. Is he there?"

"Are you gonna ask him on a date?" The question was completely matter-of-fact, and it made Kurt laugh.

"I - no. I don't plan on doing that."  _Considering right after I died of embarrassment, he would kick my ass._  "We're in theatre club together."

"Kurt is a funny name for a girl," said the child.

Kurt felt the clenching shame in his gut.  _She thinks I'm a girl._  "Um..."

"There's a boy in my Hebrew class named Kurt. Do you want to talk to Noah now?" Kurt heard Noah's exasperated voice say, "Dude, Sarah, who are you talking to?"

"Yes, please," Kurt croaked, but Sarah had already passed the phone.

"Who's this?" Noah asked Sarah, still muffled.

"It's Kurt," she piped up. There was a pause. Then Kurt heard Noah's breathing on the other end.

"Kurt?"

He sounded surprised, but not upset, and Kurt made himself relax his shoulders. "Hi. Noah. It's... yes, Kurt. From  _Grease."_

"I know which Kurt. Hey." He coughed. "Sorry about my spaz of a little sister."

"Oh - no, she was nice. How old is she? Six?"

"Almost. She's fucking hilarious, I know, everybody says. So what's up?"

Kurt smoothed the front of his own shirt, trying not to hyperventilate. "Mrs. Wright mentioned to me that you might... well, that I might be able to... last year, I did well in eighth grade Lit & Comp, and -"

"Yeah. Thanks." Noah's voice was flat. "I don't need any fucking charity."

Kurt attempted to sound offended. "Hey, it wouldn't be for you. She said I could work with her on choreography if I helped you pass. But if you don't want to..."

"I don't want to." He sounded more uncertain this time. "It's... nobody can help me, okay? It's not your fault."

"What, are you afraid to try?"

There was a pause. "I'm not afraid." That was definitely bravado, and Kurt found himself smiling. Noah sounded about as mature as his little sister did.

"All right, then," said Kurt. "You let me help you pass, and I'll get to do the choreography. Win-win."

"Fuck," Noah muttered. "Yeah. Okay, whatever, Hummel. You get this out of your system. Just don't blame me when you can't fix me."

"As far as I can see, you don't need any fixing. I mean, you look just fine to me." Kurt realized just how that sounded, seconds too late to stop himself. Anything he tried to say to repair it would just make it worse, though, so Kurt held his breath and waited it out, mentally knocking his head against the wall.  _Stupid... stupid... stupid._

"Whatever. If Wright's gonna make you do this, I'll go along with it." He sounded resigned. "I'm watching my sister until four, and then I'm free. Where do you live?"

Kurt gave Noah his address in a daze, and hung up, staring at his phone. He looked at the clock. 2:31. Then he looked around himself, noticing everything that was wrong with his house, everything that was shoddy or out of place or the slightest bit messy, and he got to work cleaning up.

By the time Noah arrived, twelve minutes after four, Kurt had a plate of snacks out on the freshly-cleared table, and some sharpened #2s next to a pad of paper. He was  _really_  hoping his dad wouldn't come home early.

Noah dumped his bag on one of the dining room chairs. "'Sup," he said. Kurt offered him a chair, and Noah sat down next to Kurt, looking ornery.

"I'm not much of a teacher," said Kurt, "but I thought maybe you could start by telling me what was most challenging about Lit & Comp, and we can tackle things one at a time."

"Everything." Noah stared at him. Kurt waited, trying not to look away. It was like being examined by a pacing wolf at the zoo. He couldn't appear weak, but he didn't want to get too aggressive either. Finally Noah rolled his eyes, sighing. "Okay. I hate reading. I got away with watching the movie whenever I could, but the books, I could barely get through the prologue of most of them. What the fuck, I can fake my way through an essay question, right? Except I couldn't. So I just refused to do any of the writing, and I told her I'm not gonna."

Kurt slid the plate of snacks across to him. Noah took a toast point and chewed it. "You didn't read any of the books? What were you supposed to read?"

Noah pulled out some battered copies of  _Fallen Angels, Where the Red Fern Grows_  and _Ender's Game._  "I picked these, but there's a big list..." He looked uncertain. Kurt nodded, thumbing through each one. There was no highlighting, no notes.

"Is it because they're boring, or because they're too hard to read?" He tried to make the question as matter-of-fact as he could, but Noah still bristled.

"I can read them," he said. "I just didn't want to. They're totally lame."

Kurt picked up  _Ender's Game._  "This is actually one of my favorite books. I bet the library has the audiobook if you wanted to hear it instead of reading it. Some people like that better."

He shrugged. "I guess."

"I mean, you've done theater, so you know how performing a story can make it special. Don't you think so?"

"That's completely different. Like, we went to see  _Twelve Angry_  Men last year. That's a kick-ass play, you know? Just a bunch of guys sitting around talking, it should be totally boring, right? Only it's not." Noah's eyes glittered. "Reading a book, it's not the same thing at all."

"It could be," Kurt insisted. "Some audiobooks, they're like theater performances." He could see by the set of his jaw that Noah wasn't going to give in. "Well, I guess you'll just have to let me read you the books. Which one are we going to start with?"

Now Noah looked panicky. "What? You're not going to do that."

"I'm  _totally_  going to do that," said Kurt. "Are you going to pick, or am I?"

"Kurt," Noah protested, but Kurt was already checking the number of pages in  _Fallen Angels._  "You're not going to read to me."

"I like reading aloud. It's almost as good as getting on the stage." Kurt watched Noah's expression waver, and he softened his voice. "I promise, I won't tell anybody."

"Don't do me any favors," Noah snapped, but Kurt could tell he wasn't going to argue anymore.

"I'll start with  _Ender's Game,_  if you don't mind. It's long, but I've been wanting to read it again." Kurt gave Noah a smile, and Kurt thought Noah almost smiled back. "Would you like something to drink?"

"Maybe," said Noah. He followed Kurt into the kitchen. "You got any more of those cheese crackers?"

By the time his dad came home at 5:30, Noah and Kurt were well into chapter two. Kurt didn't stop reading when Burt trudged up the basement stairs from the garage, but he did shoot him a  _don't ask_  look that his dad seemed to pick up on. Burt left them alone, quietly opening the fridge and setting the chicken on the stove. Noah seemed to be listening, paying attention, and when Kurt got to the end of the chapter, he gave a little thoughtful sigh.

"It's good," he agreed, and Kurt nodded in surprise. "I guess I didn't give it a chance."

Kurt thought that was big of Noah to admit, in front of his dad and everything, but he just nodded again.

"Dad, this is Noah. I'm tutoring him in Lit & Comp."

Burt offered his hand to shake. "Nice to meet you, Noah."

"He's - we're in  _Grease_  together," Kurt added, and Noah looked at Kurt in surprise.

"That's cool," Burt said. "Wrap it up, now, Kurt, I'll have dinner ready in a half hour."

Kurt followed Noah out to the front hall. He gave Kurt an oblique look. "I'm not in the show with you."

"You could have been, though," Kurt said. "I know you could have. Just because you didn't choose to doesn't mean anything. And set design, that's kind of in the show."

"That's slave labor," said Noah, and Kurt laughed. Noah gave him a big grin. "Yeah, I'll tell you a secret. I wish I had tried out. Those turkeys on the stage can't act worth shit. But  _Grease,_  really? Fucking stupid. At my theater camp last summer, we did  _Twelfth Night_  and  _Our Town._ "

"Wow," Kurt said, duly impressed. "And now you're doing this instead of that, this year. We'll get through the books, Noah. It'll be fine."

"Yeah. I owe you one. See you tomorrow at rehearsal?"

Kurt actually waved as Noah headed down the sidewalk and turned the corner. He had to put a hand over his chest to make sure his heart wasn't going to beat right out of it onto the table.

 _Don't fall in love with him, Kurt,_  he told himself.  _Don't fall in love with the straight boy. Don't do it._

"You boys want some dinner?" called Burt, and looked around the corner, surprised. "Oh - did he leave already? What was his name again?"

Kurt leaned his head back against the wall. "Noah," he murmured. "He's Noah Puckerman."

* * *

The routine was an easy one. They had rehearsals in the morning, after which Noah would come back to Kurt's house with him, where they'd eat and Kurt would read a couple chapters aloud. Kurt called over to Noah's house all the time, but he never managed to talk to anyone except Noah's sister Sarah. She still thought Kurt was a girl, and since Kurt hadn't actually been over to Noah's house, there was no reason for him to make an effort to convince her otherwise.

Kurt hadn't figured out the composition part of Lit & Comp yet, but he remembered the kinds of prompts they'd had in class. He tried talking Noah through a few of them. Noah seemed to understand the stories just fine, and he could kind of compose out loud with Kurt's help, but when it came to actually writing any of it down, he still refused. Kurt didn't push him, not wanting to lose any of the ground they'd gained in comprehension. Plus, Noah was loving the story, and Kurt wasn't going to stop reading until Noah told him to.

Noah stopped him in the middle of a chapter one day, looking almost angry. "You really don't mind this?" he demanded.

"Noah," Kurt said, grinning. "Who else lets me read out loud to them? Humor me, okay? Or else I'm going to show up at your house and read to Sarah instead."

Noah snickered. " _I like that girl Kurt,"_  he mimicked. " _You should take her out on a date."_

Kurt felt his throat close up at the suggestion. "If only she knew."

"I don't think she'd believe me at this point if I tried to tell her you're a guy." He was still laughing. "You could probably fake her out by putting on a dress, though."

"Well, she's only five." Kurt wasn't laughing anymore, though. "I should... keep going in the chapter."

But Kurt's heart wasn't in it, and Noah could tell. He stopped him after a few more paragraphs, frowning.

"That was kind of a shitty thing to say, wasn't it. Fuck. I'm sorry, Kurt."

He was so sincere, so  _nice,_  that it was easy for Kurt to shrug it off. "I've always had a high voice. Maybe it'll change. I'm still waiting. I can't really do much about it in the meantime."

"Yeah, but you don't really sound like a girl. When you sing, I mean." Noah watched Kurt shift in his chair. "Not like those boychoir fags."

"Can we talk about something else?" Kurt said sharply. "Actually... I think maybe you should go."

Noah looked positively hurt. "I didn't mean  _you,_  Kurt. You're not - I mean, you don't..." He stopped, lingering on the unspoken question.

What was he going to say? He laughed, high and fake. "No," he said. "Of course not."

Noah pushed his chair out and stood, hesitating only a moment before muttering, "I'll see you tomorrow."

Kurt watched him leave. He didn't have to walk him to the door anymore, although he usually did. Not today, though. Today he could barely keep his hands from shaking. All he could think was,  _he knows. And tomorrow at rehearsal is going to be the worst day of my life._

Noah surprised him, though, by calling him after dinner. Kurt picked up, his heart thundering in his chest. "Yeah, it's that girl Kurt," he heard Noah say on the other end. "Can you leave me alone a sec, Sarah?"

"Noah?" he said.

"Hey," Noah said. He didn't sound angry. "Um... what you said today. About being... like one of those choir boys."

"I didn't," Kurt replied. "I didn't say that. You did."

"Yeah, but... I don't know. I wanted you to know it was okay with me. I mean, if you were. You're cool. I don't care who you want to fuck."

 _I don't want to fuck anyone,_  Kurt could have said a couple weeks ago. But that wasn't quite true anymore, at least not according to his highly erotic and personalized dreams. He let out a shaky breath. "You're not going to... tell anybody."

"No, man. You're not talking to the whole world about my reading problem, are you? It's not anything to worry about. I'm not going to let anybody say bad things about you. I got your back."

"Oh," Kurt whispered. "I... uh. Thank you."

"No problem," Noah said easily. "See you tomorrow, Kurt."

"Okay. Bye."

Kurt let the phone slip from his fingers. Then he pressed them to his mouth, holding in the sob. He couldn't even tell his dad what was going on. He just sat there, keeping it inside, knowing that tomorrow wouldn't be any better.

"Dad," he said, as evenly as he could manage, "I'm going across the street to talk to Andrea about something. Be back in a minute."

He didn't wait for a reply, letting the screen door slam behind him. The tears dried on his cheeks as he ran. Nobody was around to see him cry, but he waited until he was safely in Andrea's backyard in the gazebo before he let go.

He heard the screen door slide open, then closed, and the sound of feet in the grass. "Kurt?"

"I came out to Noah Puckerman," he said, raising his eyes to her worried face. "He was really nice about it. He said... he won't let anybody say anything b-bad about me."

"Oh, Kurt," she said quietly, and held him while he sobbed. "I'm so sorry."

Kurt wiped his eyes carefully on his sleeves, for once not caring how he looked or what he was doing to the fabric. "I don't know why I'm so upset."

"You don't?" Andrea raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"No! I knew it wasn't going to be anything more than that. I  _knew._  He's not going to... want anything else with me. I'm just going to have to be okay with that."

"You will be." She let him rest his head on her shoulder. "You just don't have to be okay with it right away. Give yourself a little time."

"You're really being good to me." He closed his eyes, feeling the comfort of her arms. "I... can't tell my dad."

"Yeah, you could. He'd get over it."

"Yeah," Kurt said miserably, but he thought she understood what was going unsaid.  _Just one more way I'm going to fail him._

* * *

Kurt brought  _Ender's Game_  with him to rehearsal the next day. Their bookmark was located about halfway through the book. He caught Noah in the hallway alone, and flashed him the cover. Noah's brows went down.

"What's that here for?"

"I thought, if you wanted to, you could just take it home," Kurt said. "You could find somebody else to read to you. I'm sure you -"

"No!" Noah put an arm around Kurt, pulling him abruptly close enough for Kurt to feel Noah's breath on his cheek. He tried not to flinch away. "I didn't say I wanted you to stop, did I?"

"No," Kurt whispered. "I just thought -"

"Yeah. Why don't you let me be the one to tell you when I want you to stop?"

Kurt turned to see Noah's eyes, dark and intense, inches from his own. He could barely feel his fingers. He thought he might pass out if Noah did anything at all. "O-okay," he said.

"Good." His eyes flickered down Kurt's face, to his lips, and back up. "So we're cool?"

"Cool," Kurt agreed. He took one slow step back, and let his breath out. "Yes."

That night, he dreamed of Noah. It wasn't the first time, nor, he suspected, would it be the last. He was shirtless, kneeling between Kurt's legs, stroking him slowly, and the words  _why don't you let me be the one to tell you when I want you to stop_  were on his lips.

Kurt woke, gasping Noah's name, but the only hands on his body were his own. This was more depressing than he wanted to admit, and he found himself crying in the midst of laundering his sheets and pajamas.

 _Lovesick,_  he thought,  _just like in the movies._ Only it didn't feel pleasant at all. It was just sad and lonely and heartbreaking, and it was all he could imagine for himself for the rest of the summer.

* * *

He barely saw Noah during the last week of rehearsal. The set had magically taken shape around them, and he had to admit it looked great. Kurt didn't know how much input Noah had had into the design, but it was creative enough to think maybe he'd had some.

Rehearsals went long, and they couldn't meet to read for the last five days before the show. Kurt found himself missing that more than he would have admitted to anyone. It wasn't until the day before opening night, as he lay awake in bed, staring up at the ceiling, that he reached for his phone.

"Kurt?" said Noah's voice.

"I hope you weren't asleep," he said - which was completely stupid, because obviously Noah was at a party, judging by the noise in the background.

"Hey, no... hang on a sec." The sound abruptly decreased. "I'm on the back deck now. What's going on? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah." Kurt felt completely embarrassed now, about what he'd been thinking. But here he was. He either had to make up some excuse for calling, or tell the truth. He took a breath and let it out. "I've missed reading to you."

"Oh." Noah sounded surprised, like that wasn't what he'd expected Kurt to say, but like maybe it was a  _good_  surprise. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Kind of dumb."

"No," Noah said. "Not dumb. And, uh, I missed it too. We left off at a good part. I thought about getting the audiobook, but I wouldn't know where to start it."

"You can do that, if you'd rather."

"No. I want you to keep reading it."

"Okay," he agreed. "I can start again any time."

"Oh." Noah laughed. "Kurt - you wanted to read to me  _right now?"_

Kurt moaned. "Forget it. I didn't know you were going to be at a party, but - I mean, of  _course_  you would be..."

"Kind of. It's my cousin Josh's bar mitzvah. These guys know how to get down, I'm telling you."

He laughed, covering his mouth. "I'm sorry. I'm not laughing at you."

"No, forget it." He heard Noah's chuckle, and it was way too sexy. Kurt tried not to hear it that way, but once he did, there was no way he could  _not._  "To tell you the truth, all I want to do right now is find a place to hide and have you read to me for a while. You think you could do that?"

"I - I could," said Kurt. He reached out and switched on his light, fumbling on his desk for the book. "Hang on."

"Are you in bed?"

The question was innocent enough, but Kurt was already compromised, thinking of Noah's sexy chuckle, and he barely managed to squeak out a  _yes._

"You don't mind losing a little sleep to keep me company?"

"Not at all," Kurt assured him. He stretched out on his stomach, the book on his pillow and the phone propped up at his ear. "Are you in a good place to listen?"

"Yeah. I think I can get away with this for a while before my aunt Ronnie catches me. They've all had too much Manischewitz to care about me anyway. Go ahead."

Kurt read from the point where they'd left off, just before the part when Ender was promoted to commander, years ahead of schedule. He read how Ender began leading a series of staged battles in the simulator. Noah was completely fascinated.

"They all totally hate him," he said. "That must really suck."

"You don't become a commander to be liked," Kurt pointed out. "He's trying to win, at any cost."

"Didn't they make a movie of this, a long time ago? A kid is trained to fight battles on a video game, then he's taken into battle,  _real_  battle?"

"I don't think there's a movie," Kurt said, thinking.

"No, I'm pretty sure I saw it. Only... no, it wasn't Ender. The guy was grown up. Maybe it was a different story. Anyway. Go on, I want to hear how this part ends."

Kurt had to admit he was a little emotionally invested in the story of younger, smaller Ender, ganged up on by older kids in an unfair fight. He loaded the arguments with plenty of passion as he read them aloud. When he turned around and saw his dad standing in the doorway to his room, listening, he stopped mid-sentence, mortified.

"Kurt?" said Noah.

"Uh..." Kurt looked at the clock. It was after 12:30. "I think I'd better go."

"Okay. This was awesome. I bet I'll dream about battle school tonight."

"Yeah," Kurt agreed, though he was guessing he'd be dreaming about other things instead. "Enjoy the rest of the bar mitzvah."

His dad peered at the book. "What were you reading?" he asked.

Kurt held up the cover. "I read it last year in Lit & Comp."

"You're reading to that Puckerman kid?"

"Yeah," he admitted. "He has some kind of learning disability, and he refuses to admit it. I'm trying to work around it."

"Hmmm." Burt contemplated Kurt, but he only said, "You're a great reader. That was some pretty exciting stuff."

"You should read it when we're done," Kurt offered, and heard Burt's snort that meant  _Yeah, right._  He paused in the midst of turning out the light, having a sudden thought. "Dad, did  _you_  have trouble reading in school?"

"I was a crummy reader, for years," Burt said. "Didn't realize until college that I liked murder mysteries. Then I couldn't get enough of them. Sometimes it takes a while to figure out what you really like."

Kurt sighed. "I've always known what I like."

"Yeah." Burt bent over in the dark and kissed his son's forehead. "I always knew what you liked, too. Go to sleep, kiddo. Big day tomorrow, right?"

* * *

Opening night wasn't perfect, but it was just as fantastic as Kurt could have expected his first opening night to be. There wasn't anything that went horribly wrong, the energy was high, and they got plenty of laughs and applause.

The biggest surprise was looking out into the audience from the stage and not being able to see anybody because the lights were too bright. Kurt had to admit it was easier that way, not to be distracted by people's faces. But that meant that he went blithely through the whole show, every dance number, until the very last curtain when the house lights went up, before realizing Noah was sitting right there in the front row. Sarah was next to him on one side, and his friend Finn was on the other. Kurt didn't do anything stupid like wave at him, but he thought back over the show, all the things he'd done on the stage, and he felt suddenly sick.

"Andrea," he said, clutching at her hands. "Is there such a thing as  _reverse stage fright?"_

"You did great," she said, hugging him. "Come on, all we have to do now is take off our makeup and go to the cast party."

All the high school girls he'd been afraid of at the beginning of the summer were now his friends, or at least a large enough proportion of them that he felt fortified against further attack from the popular kids. Some of the other incoming freshmen, like Tina and Mercedes, had become casual friends, too. The guys still mostly avoided him, but a couple of them gave him high-fives and pats on the back as they made their way through the crowd.

Kurt's dad had promised not to get him flowers or anything, but he was there, too, grinning at him.

"You were great, kiddo," he said, hugging him carefully to avoid getting covered with stage makeup. "The car mock-up looked pretty sharp. And Andrea, wow, I could hardly believe it was you up there. You're all grown up."

"Yeah," she said, smiling. "One more year. It'll be good to finally be in school with Kurt next year."

Kurt realized school was only a few weeks away. He waited until he'd taken off his costume and cleaned off the makeup before hugging Andrea himself. She beamed at him.

"Wasn't it fantastic?" she demanded. "And won't you do it every summer?"

"Yes," he agreed. "And yes. You were completely right. I'll never be able to thank you enough, oh wise one."

There wasn't any way he could thank Andrea for the rest of it, for the support she'd given him, the way she'd accepted him without question. He hadn't even needed to say anything to her, and she'd just  _known._  Just as he suspected she knew, now, how he felt.

The evening was cool enough that he was able to wear something other than shorts and a t-shirt to the cast party, which was something of a fashion relief. He got compliments from several girls on their way from Andrea's car to Henry's house. Henry met them at the door, accompanied by his parents.

"Andrea, hello," they gushed, smiling at Kurt. "Is this your boyfriend?"

"Uh -" Kurt said, startled into silence. She just smiled, shaking her head.

"No, Mr. and Mrs. Forrest, I'm gay."

"Oh," they both said, their smiles disappearing.

Andrea took Kurt's stunned hand and towed him past them into the party.

"You are?" he said. She grinned.

"No, I just made it up so they wouldn't suspect you.  _Yes,_  Kurt. I'm gay."

His head was whirling. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Why didn't you?" she countered. She took his hand, leading him into the relative quiet of the kitchen. "You've never said the words out loud, have you? To anyone?"

He shook his head, still in a daze. Andrea looked around, over the heads of other partygoers, until she saw the person she was looking for. "Hey - Noah. Come here."

"Andrea," Kurt hissed, but she wasn't listening. She drew Noah over to stand in front of them. He was wearing the same t-shirt and cutoffs he'd worn at rehearsals all summer, and he looked completely fantastic.

"Yeah?" said Noah, looking back and forth between Kurt and Andrea. "What's this about?"

"Kurt's never told anybody he was gay."

Noah stared at him. "Uh... pretty sure he told  _me."_

"No, I mean he's never said it out loud to anybody. You're the only other person who knows. He's going to say it to you, right now." She turned to Kurt, gesturing. "Go on."

"Andrea," Kurt said again, weakly.

"You have to start saying it out loud some time. Come on, just say it. I did.  _I'm gay._ "

"Dude, you are?" Noah grinned at her. "Cool."

She squeezed his hand. "Just say it, Kurt, and then we can go have a cast party. Trust me, you're not the only person in this room who's afraid to say it out loud. Start now. It gets easier every time."

Kurt caught his breath, seeing Noah's expectant face. "I -"

"It's okay, man," Noah said softly.

Faced with his warm hazel eyes and kind smile, Kurt almost blurted  _I love you,_  but he managed to reign it in, and stammered, "I'm - I'm gay."

"That's it," Andrea crowed, holding up a hand for him to high five. He did, feeling unaccountably flushed. "Way to go. First time's the hardest."

"That's what she said," Noah snickered. "Hey, I bet I can get you drunk enough that guys look good to you again."

"I don't think such a quantity of alcohol exists, Puckerman," she told him. "But you can give it a shot."

Kurt successfully avoided the spiked punch, the jello shots and the suspicious brownies for the rest of the night. He danced the Macarena, the Hustle and the Electric Slide, and at midnight they all did the Time Warp. It was definitely the best party he'd ever been to, not that he'd been to that many, but by the time Henry's parents came out to tell them it was time to go home, he was ready to call it a night.

Andrea, while she hadn't apparently had enough alcohol to turn Noah into an attractive prospect, had had way too much to drive him or anybody else home. She put her keys in Kurt's hands and closed his fingers around them.

"It's just down the block," she said. "And it's an automatic."

He gasped. "You can't be serious. I'm  _fourteen._ "

Her eyes were almost closed. "I trust you. Just get me home, would you?"

The lawn was littered with  _Grease_ programs and paper cups. Kurt got Andrea sitting and buckled in the passenger seat before he walked around to the driver's side, and found Noah sitting on the grass, elbows resting on his knees. He looked very calm.

"Hey, Kurt," he said.

"Noah." Kurt slowed, stopped. He contemplated Noah. "Did you... eat some of those brownies?"

"A couple," he said. "Why?"

"I think I'd better drive you home, too." He reached down and got Noah to take his hand, coaxing him off the grass. "Come on. There you go - into the back."

With only a few false starts, Kurt figured out the go pedal and the stop pedal, and they lurched their way down the street toward Andrea's house. Luckily, they didn't need to go out of the subdivision to get there, and they met no one on the road in the middle of the night in Lima.

"I'll drop you off and then take Noah home," said Kurt, but Noah was already climbing out of the car. Andrea stumbled into her house, leaving Kurt standing in the driveway, holding her keys.

"S'okay, Kurt," he said, crossing the street. "I can walk from here."

"Noah, it's one-thirty in the morning," he said. "You aren't going to walk home."

"Dude, I walk there every day from your house. It's not a big deal."

"Forget it! Get back in the car."

Noah just looked at Kurt. He threw up his hands. "Fine. Then I forget where I live."

"You - what? Noah."

"I'm that drunk," he affirmed. "Seriously impaired, and a little high. No clue. You'll have to leave me here."

Kurt took him by the hand and dragged him, protesting, toward his house. "Then you're spending the night on my couch."

"Kurt, I'm  _fine._  Can't you just let me walk home?"

"Why won't you tell me where you live?"

"Because I'm ashamed, okay?" he shouted. He glared at Kurt. "Why do you think we've been studying at your house all this time?"

Kurt's voice got very small. "Because... we have good snacks?"

Noah sighed. "Okay, I'll give you that. But, dude, even I'm not that selfish. I can return a favor. I just... I don't want you to see where I live."

He sank down onto Kurt's front step and rested his head in his hands. Kurt knelt beside him on the sidewalk, feeling completely and utterly clueless.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I had no idea. But, Noah, it can't be that bad."

"No," said Noah. "It's worse. Trust me. I've seen your house. You don't want to see mine."

Kurt nodded in silence. He reached out for Noah's hand again. "Then... we've got a very comfy couch."

Noah looked at Kurt's hand, then at his resolute face. He sighed. Then he took the hand, letting Kurt lead him inside. He waited while Kurt got sheets and a quilt from the linen closet and made up a bed for him on the couch. Kurt turned away when Noah started to take off his shorts.

"Do... you want to borrow some pajamas?" he offered, his voice only a little strangled.

Noah chuckled again, prompting a shiver down Kurt's spine. "I'm okay wearing what I got on, Kurt. And thanks."

"I'll be... downstairs. If you need anything." Then Kurt fled before he could say anything more ridiculous or damaging.

His dreams that night involved Noah appearing at the door to his bedroom, wearing nothing but a pair of briefs, saying  _I need something, Kurt._  Luckily, he managed to keep his sheets reasonably clean, though he had to get up and change his pajamas after the conclusion of the dream. It was somehow comforting to know that, even in a dream, Noah was thoughtful enough to get him off first.

* * *

<http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dzyixV-eGRI>

_You're like a party somebody threw me_  
_You taste like birthday_  
_You look like New Years_  
_You're like a big parade through town  
_ _You leave such a mess but you're so fun_

_Tell all the neighbors to start knocking down walls_  
_To grab their guitars and run out to the hall_  
_And we're coming out right along to sing them my new song_

_For every place there is a bus_  
_That'll take you where you must_  
_Start counting all your money and friends before you come back again_

_For every road we can retrace_  
_For every memory we can't face_  
_For every name that's been erased_  
_Let's have another round_  
_May I propose a little toast?_  
_For all the ones who hurt the most_  
_For all the friends that we have lost_

_Let's give them one more round of applause_  
_But you're like a party somebody threw me_  
_You taste like birthday_  
_You look like New Year_  
_You're like a big parade through town_  
_That leaves such a mess but you're so fun_

_\- "The Party," Regina Spektor_


	2. Fall 2008

**Fall 2008**

Andrea was waiting on his porch on the first day of high school, smiling at Burt through the screen. "You ready?" she asked.

"Andrea, tell my son he looks fantastic," Burt called. "And to stop fiddling with his hair."

"I'm not much for hair, Mr. Hummel." She tightened her ponytail and gave it a flip over her shoulder. "Too much work. But Kurt, you do look fantastic."

Kurt clutched his brand-new messenger bag. "I'm just trying not to throw up."

"Aw, come on. It's no different than walking onto that stage. Just another performance, right? Except you get to be yourself, which is awesome." Andrea opened the door for him. "Bye, Mr. Hummel. I'll return him in one piece."

Kurt told her his schedule on their way to school. "I can't believe there's no drama class," he complained. "But I have Mrs. Wright for freshman English. And choir, with... um, Mr. Ryerson?"

Andrea made a face. "I don't know. He's kind of creepy. You might decide to stick with community theater in the summer."

It was reassuring to walk into the building for the first time and recognize so many students. They all gave him a smile, and some of them greeted him by name. Even though the surroundings were unfamiliar, Kurt already felt confident.

Andrea touched his sleeve as they reached an intersection in the hallway. "I have to head to Spanish. We have different lunches, but I'll meet you outside after school, and I'll look for you in the hall, okay?"

"Okay," he agreed. "Thank you."

She gave him an encouraging smile. "You'll be great."

Kurt followed the hallway signs toward Mrs. Wright's freshman English class. The first person he saw when he entered the room was Noah, sitting in the back row. Noah glanced at him briefly, then away.

Kurt had known to expect that kind of treatment from Noah, but it still hurt to see him doing it. He just found a seat in the front of the room and tried to ignore him.

Mrs. Wright smiled at him. "I don't have to ask if you're prepared, Kurt. Are you interested in tutoring again this year?"

"Maybe," he said, loud enough for Noah to hear him. "If certain people were willing to actually  _talk to me."_

"He'll come around," said Mrs. Wright. "Even if I have to force the issue. The essay you got Noah to write was adequate, which was more than I expected from him."

"I didn't make Noah write anything," Kurt said. "That was all him. We did finish  _Ender's Game_  and start  _Where the Red Fern Grows."_

She looked startled, but didn't pursue it. "Consider that your first independent reading book, then. I'll offer you extra credit for reading with him."

Kurt knew the penalty for texting in class was severe, so he waited until lunchtime to take his phone out and send Noah a message.  _I'll assume the brush-off this morning means we can't be friends at school._

The message came back quick enough.  _yeah. sorry._

Kurt tightened the corners of his mouth.  _Me, too. Do you want me to keep reading to you after school? Mrs. Wright's offering me extra credit._

He said that so Noah would know it wasn't just out of the goodness of his own heart that he was doing it. Yeah, he was a pushover, and he knew it, but he still had a little self-interest and pride.

 _You want to?_  came the text. Kurt sighed.

_Yes, I want to._

_Even if im a jerk?_

That made him smile.  _Yes, even then. Consider it practice for summer theater, since we won't get to do a play at school this year._

Noah didn't text him again, and Kurt was doing a pretty good job of not thinking about him. He suffered through choir with Mr. Ryerson, who was indeed creepy, gathered up his books to start his homework (already, on the first day?), and went outside to meet Andrea.

Noah was there, waiting with her. He gave Kurt a nod. Kurt tried not to care, but he couldn't pretend he wasn't glad to see him.  _Even though you're a jerk,_  he thought.

"God, this year is going to be hell," Andrea sighed, hiking her backpack up higher. "I can already tell AP history is going to kick my butt."

"You were right about Ryerson," Kurt nodded sympathetically. "I'm trying to decide if I want to drop choir or not. It's not the kind of music I like anyway."

"Noah tells me you're going to keep tutoring him." Andrea gave him a meaningful look. Kurt wondered if that meant  _you're an idiot if you're nice to him when he's being a jerk,_ or  _you still think you're going to get into his pants,_  or something else entirely. He couldn't exactly ask.

"Yeah," Kurt agreed. "It would be silly to stop in the middle of the book."

Noah didn't look like he was planning to go anywhere without them. Andrea walked first, giving them a little space to talk. Kurt wasn't even sure what to say, what was okay and what was off limits. This school-Noah was still a puzzle to him.

"I hear you wrote something for Wright, after all?" he said.

"Yeah." Noah looked uncomfortable. "She told me to keep this journal all summer, writing anything I wanted to write, and I told her no way, but I did."

They ducked around the forsythia bush that framed the cut-through to Mr. Price's yard. "You... kept a journal?"

Noah scowled. "It wasn't anything. I just wrote about the play, and... stuff."

Kurt wondered, fleetingly, what he might have to do in order to get his hands on that journal. "Are you going to turn it in to her?"

"I don't know. It's kind of personal. But it got easier to write, and that was the point? When she told me to write an essay on  _Ender's Game,_  it wasn't so bad." He shrugged. "I guess she thought it was good enough, anyway. She passed me."

"I'm not surprised. You're smart. I'm just glad you did it."

Noah gave him a strange look. "You think I'm smart?"

"She thinks you're smart, too. Just not motivated." They came out on the other side of Mr. Wright's yard. Andrea was already several feet in front of them. She turned back to wave before crossing the street to her house. Noah, meanwhile, was absorbed in thought.

"Huh. I think I'd be more motivated if I thought I was actually learning anything. School just mostly seems like a waste of time."

Kurt dug in his bag for his house key. "You don't think you're learning anything at school?"

"Nothing useful. When am I ever going to need to factor trinomials or compare the exports of two different countries or titrate a solution? Never. Fucking stupid."

"What  _do_  you want to do?" Kurt asked. He watched Noah withdraw from the question, shaking his head.

"Never mind. You got any of those little olives today?"

They read several chapters in  _Where the Red Fern Grows._  It wasn't quite as engaging a book as  _Ender's Game,_  but Noah liked the idea of the boy saving up coins for two years to pay for his dogs. They were still reading on the couch when Burt got home from the garage.

He smiled when he saw Noah. "Hey, it's been a couple weeks. I wasn't sure if I was going to see you again after this summer."

"Yep, I'm still dumb," Noah said, grinning. "And Kurt still thinks he can get me to learn something in this English class."

"I'm guessing that's up to you," said Burt. "You want to stay for dinner? I brought home Chinese?"

Noah's grin slipped a little. "I - my sister's going to be home soon. I should really be there when she gets there. But another time, definitely. Thanks." Noah turned to Kurt. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Kurt followed him out onto the porch. "Are you saying you're actually going to talk to me tomorrow?"

Noah sighed, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. "Yeah, about that..."

"Forget about it, Noah." Kurt crossed his arms. "I'm not going to stop helping you in English just because you treat me like a second-class citizen in front of your friends."

He winced. "Ouch. Yeah, I guess I deserved that. It's just... I'm on the football team, and I've never been good at  _anything_  before, and I think I might actually have a chance to do that now? I don't want to blow it because a bunch of homophobic assholes might blackball me if I'm..."

"Friends with the faggot?"

"Something like that." Noah didn't look too happy about the idea, either. "I'm  _sorry,_  Kurt."

"Like I said, forget it. Do you like this? Coming over to my house, hanging out, reading?"

He nodded, so earnestly. "I really do."

"Me too. I'm not going to jeopardize that by being overly sensitive." He gave Noah a wan smile. "Tomorrow after school, then?"

"Yeah," Noah agreed. "After school."

* * *

Kurt found himself with three distinct groups of friends. There were the guys he grew up with, smart kids like him, but a lot of them were starting to drift away. Mercedes and Tina were loners who liked to go to the mall and talk about fashion and sing R&B along to the radio, which suited Kurt fine most of the time. And there was Noah.

Noah continued to be an anomaly. He knew about some things that surprised Kurt, but sometimes they ran into surprising holes in his cultural knowledge. He knew almost nothing about politics or current events, other than what was happening in Israel. He liked to play football but didn't care for watching it much, or any other sports. He made fun of Kurt for liking Broadway musicals, but one day Kurt mentioned something about measuring his room for a bed, and Noah snickered, muttering, "Whatever, Figaro."

"Okay, wait." Kurt reached out and took the last feta-stuffed cherry tomato before Noah could swipe it, and pointed it at Noah. "Something just doesn't add up here. How do you know references to Mozart operas?"

Noah turned redder than the tomato. "It's nothing. My dad."

"Your dad likes opera?"

"My dad's the facilities manager of the Dayton Opera House. Basically a fancy name for a janitor and maintenance guy. He's been there since before I was born."

Kurt let the tomato drop to the table. "Wow."

"It's not that impressive. He makes shit money." Noah looked like he wanted to escape from Kurt's stare. Kurt glanced away. He didn't want to scare him away.

"Is he - I mean, was he a performer? An actor?"

"He was. A long time ago. He doesn't anymore."

"Is that how you learned to build things? From your dad? Was he a musician, too?"

"Yeah. Can we not...?" Noah gave him a reproachful look. "I really don't like to talk about my dad."

Kurt dropped it, but he couldn't stop thinking of questions he wanted to ask. They settled on the couch to read. Noah seemed distracted, too, and Kurt paused between chapters.

"Do you ever see him anymore?"

Noah nodded. "We get together every couple weeks. And my mom drives me to Dayton whenever there's a show I want to see. He gets free tickets to all the theater guild performances."

"That's why you know Shakespeare?"

He snorted. "I know Shakespeare because my dad's been reading it to me since I was in fucking diapers. He used to read to me all the time."

Kurt nodded slowly. "But your mom... she doesn't."

"She's never home." Kurt noticed Noah didn't answer the question, but he didn't push him. "My sister, she's missing out on hearing that language, you know? I try to read to her, but I can't, really. I can recite the scenes I know, but it's hard when you only know one part."

Kurt felt the pieces begin to fall into place about Noah Puckerman. "How long have your parents been divorced?"

"Five years. My dad... he has problems. My mom didn't want to deal with them. I don't blame her, really, but... she works second shift. So the house is a mess, and we eat a lot of ramen, and it's just..." He grimaced. "It's embarrassing."

"I hope you know I don't care about that," Kurt said. Noah smiled at him.

"I know you don't. I mean, you haven't seen it, but I bet you wouldn't. You're way too nice for that."

Kurt blushed, staring down at the book. "Shall I read some of the next chapter, or do you want to stop here?"

"You can stop here. I don't want to go too fast."

"Hey, there are always more books," Kurt said, smiling. "I don't think we're going to run out."

Noah grinned back. "And you're not getting sick of this?"

"No way," he promised. "But maybe next we should read a play."

"Oh." Noah hesitated, his smile disappearing. "Yeah, I guess."

"We could read one together," Kurt suggested. Noah looked like he might have a response to that, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he got up and shrugged on his coat.

"JV football practice tomorrow," he said. "So I won't see you then. But Thursday, I can. And, uh." He stopped again. "Never mind. See you."

Kurt told his dad about Noah's dad when he got home. "He said he'd been working at the opera house since before Noah was born. That's kind of a long way to drive for work."

"Especially with a little kid," he agreed. "I don't think I could have done it, even if your mom were still alive. I barely see you as it is."

"You do fine, dad." Kurt washed the lettuce for the salad, thinking. "Could we invite his mom and sister over for dinner some night?"

"Sure, kiddo. We could do that."

After dinner, Kurt visited the website for the Dayton Opera House and read the page about employees. He couldn't find a mention of Noah's dad there, but he did find an archive of pictures from old plays and operas, organized by performer.  _Puckerman, Aaron,_  he read, and clicked on the name.

"Oh my god," he murmured. He raised his voice. "Dad? Come here. You have to see this."

Burt stuck his head in. "What? What's the matter?"

"Nothing's the matter. Just - look." He gestured to the screen. "Noah's father _._  Look at these roles. Lysander... Candide... Rodolfo... all the best tenor parts. And look... Macbeth? Ricky Roma? Willie Loman? Hamlet? Cyrano?" Kurt clicked through the archive, marveling. "He played everything."

"He was pretty young, there," Burt said, leaning over his shoulder. "Heh. Looks like Noah, too."

Kurt read the dates on the captions. "It doesn't look like he did anything after... 2001. I wonder what happened."

"Well, like you said, once you start having kids, it's hard to find time to do anything. Maybe he just quit?" Burt rested a hand on Kurt's shoulder. "Don't stay up too late."

"I won't," Kurt said automatically. But he was already doing a search for  _Aaron Puckerman Dayton theater,_  looking for newspaper articles, community reports, anything that would point to a reason why he might have suddenly quit performing.  _Because he was clearly good at it,_  Kurt thought, gazing at one picture of Mr. Puckerman, his head raised in supplication to the heavens as King Lear. What would make a man stop a successful career, right at its peak?

Just as he was getting ready to climb into bed, Kurt's phone rang. He picked it up, his heart beating a little faster at Noah's name on the screen. "Hello?"

"Kurt. I... is this a bad time?"

"No, it's fine. I was just... no. It's fine." He closed his eyes, hearing his own voice come out so high and awkward. "Do you need something?"

"Yeah, actually, it's about this weekend. My dad's... he got me tickets to a performance in Dayton on Saturday. I usually go with him, but I thought, maybe, you might want to come."

"You want me to go with you to... the opera?" Kurt could barely get the words out, they sounded so improbable.

"A play, actually.  _Twelfth Night._ You can totally say no, if you can't, or if you think it's lame."

"No. I mean - yes. I think so." Kurt bit his lip. "I have to ask my dad. But yes, I want to. Thank you."

"Cool." Noah sounded relieved. "It's just, I have to tell my dad if I'm coming or not, and I was thinking it would be fun to see it with you. Like, you'd get it."

"Maybe? I mean, I've never seen a Shakespeare play before, but..."

"Really?" Noah sounded incredulous. "Never? What about, like the movie version?"

"No, never. But I'd really like to." He knew he sounded absurd, fawning all over Noah like that, but he just felt so... surprised, and  _touched,_  that he wanted Kurt to go with him. That he'd even think about it. "Can I ask my dad and let you know tomorrow?"

"Well, he has to know tonight, if he's going to get comp tickets."

"Oh. Okay... just a minute." Kurt left the phone on the table by his bed, then changed his mind, raced back to pick it up, and pressed the mute button instead, keeping it with him. He wasn't going to lose this opportunity. He just  _couldn't._

"Dad!" he shouted. His dad was in front of the television, watching a show, but his head snapped up at Kurt's distress. "Dad... it's Noah. He wants me to go to a play with him on Saturday. Can I go?"

Burt looked completely confused. "A play? Like on the stage?"

" _Yes._  A play. His dad got him tickets." Kurt begged with his eyes. "Dad,  _please,_  say I can?"

"Well, I don't know..." He scratched his head, frowning. "You'd be going with his dad? And how are you going to get there? Noah's not old enough to drive, is he?"

"His mom's going to drive him, I think. He goes down to Dayton all the time." Kurt didn't mention that his dad wouldn't be going with them to the play. "It's Shakespeare.  _Twelfth Night._ "

Burt looked at Kurt, still uncertain. "Well... I guess so, if you really want to."

"I really want to!" Kurt flung his arms around his father's neck, prompting a mild protest. "Thank you, thank you, thank you." He pressed the mute button again. "Noah?"

"Yeah?"

"He said yes. I can go." He knew his face was shining, beyond all reason for this event, but he didn't care. Noah had asked him, and he was going.

"Cool." Noah sounded pleased, too. "I'll tell my dad. It's one of my favorite plays. Um, and we might have to crash down there afterwards. It's usually too late for my mom to come get me after the show is over."

"Sleep over? At your dad's?" Kurt watched his father's face turn doubtful again, and he mouthed  _please._

"Yeah. Is that okay?"

Burt gave a sigh, his face a picture of conflict, but he finally nodded. Kurt let out his breath. "Yes. It's okay."

"Thanks. It's nice to have a friend who doesn't think I'm a total loser for liking theater." Noah sounded genuinely thankful. "I'll tell my mom you're coming. See you tomorrow."

"Bye." Kurt disconnected the call and clutched the phone to his chest. "Dad..."

"I don't like this, Kurt," Burt told him. "You're too young to be going out of town on the weekend like this. And you barely know Noah."

Kurt shook his head. "I know he loves theater. Nobody understands that about him. His mom doesn't get it; she doesn't read to him like his dad did. He can't talk about it at school. I think he must be more alone than I am."

"That's another thing. Are you sure you're understanding Noah's intentions here?" Burt swallowed uncomfortably. "Does he think this is... a date?"

"Dad!" Kurt cried, feeling his own cheeks go crimson. "Noah doesn't like boys."

"Did he tell you that? Because I've heard how things are in the theater. I'm just trying to look out for you here, Kurt. You're young, you don't have any experience in this stuff."

"What, and you do?" Kurt glared at his father. "You're so sure he's out to take advantage of me. Maybe he just likes me. Maybe he needs a friend."

"Maybe," Burt allowed. "Maybe not. You said yourself he's not so nice to you at school. How do you know you can trust him?"

None of the answers Kurt could muster would make his father feel any better. "I just do," he said. "Can't you trust  _me_ to know?"

Burt sighed unhappily. "I guess I'll have to. But, Kurt, you call me if  _anything_  goes wrong. I don't care what time of night it is, you call me. Understand?"

"Okay, dad. I will." He hugged his dad again. "Thank you."

His dad pulled away to look up at him again, still frowning. "This is a big deal for you."

"Big," said Kurt, nodding emphatically. "Really big."

"Can you... tell me why?"

Kurt thought he understood what his dad was asking, without using the words. He shook his head silently, and Burt nodded, just as silently.

It wasn't that his dad wouldn't understand. Kurt thought he might, and even if it would be weird, he could probably tell him. It was that he couldn't bear hearing his dad's judgment that he was being an idiot for wanting to spend time with Noah, knowing full well Noah would never be able to return Kurt's affections in the same way.

 _Maybe I am an idiot,_  he thought, climbing back into bed.  _But I can't stop wanting to be with him, just because he doesn't - can't - feel the same way about me. And I'm not going to give up this chance to share something meaningful with him._

* * *

Noah didn't talk to him at school the next day, but it didn't bother Kurt in the same way. He felt like he was carrying something precious inside him, something that nobody could touch or see. It stayed with him throughout the day. When he caught glimpses of Noah in the hallway and at lunch, the feeling increased, and he smiled to himself, thinking,  _I know him. No one else knows him like I do._

It was strange, now, when he saw Noah and his friends together at school, being rowdy and cursing and acting like such  _boys._  He wondered if that was the pretend Noah, the one he had to try to put on, or if, when he was with Kurt, he was just reigning it all in to be polite? Noah talked back to teachers and swore in class and didn't seem to care when they gave him in-school suspensions. But at Kurt's house, Noah was thoughtful and introspective. He was willing to let Kurt lead the discussions about the book they were reading, but he offered plenty of ideas of his own. His language might be coarse, but he was clearly no dummy.

And Kurt got glimpses of his sensitive side, too. At the end of  _Where the Red Fern Grows_ , Kurt had to pause several times in the reading of Old Dan and Little Ann's deaths to compose himself before he could go on. Each time, Noah took his hand and held it tightly, watching Kurt's face with concern. He didn't cry, but the book had clearly moved him.

"Do you think it's possible to die of a broken heart, like that?" Noah asked, when Kurt was done.

"I don't think so," Kurt answered. "My mother died when I was eight. I think, if I could have died of a broken heart, I would have. But here I am, and I can - I'm still okay." He almost said  _I can still love,_  but he didn't think Noah needed to hear that from him. He felt fortunate that Noah knew who he was and liked him anyway, without making it more complicated.

Noah nodded. "I think my mom might have broken my dad's heart," he said quietly. "He's still kind of a mess, and he's been gone a long time. But I guess he was a mess before she told him to leave, too, so... I don't know." He leaned back on the couch, silent with his thoughts.

Kurt reached out and tentatively touched his hand. Noah looked surprised, but he took Kurt's hand and squeezed it, like he had during the story when Kurt had cried.

"Love seems way too fucking complicated," Noah said. "I'd just as soon forget about it. Who needs it, anyway?"

"I do," said Kurt. "I've always been in love with love. The romance, the drama. It's what drives every story that's ever been told."

"Well, that's fine," said Noah, frowning. "In stories. But in real life it's just... too much work. Who  _wants_ to get their heart broken?"

"If the rewards are great enough, maybe it's worth it?" Kurt handed the book to Noah. "You think it would have been better for Billy to live his whole life without knowing and loving his dogs, just because they broke his heart by dying at the end? I mean, doesn't every story end some time?"

Noah held the book, gazing at the cover, but not really looking at it. "There's an ending, sure. It's what's after the ending that's so hard. It's the part where you're all by yourself and there's nothing to make it better."

"Then you tell another story," Kurt said, more bravely than he felt. Noah looked up at him, and laughed, shaking his head.

"You're really something else, Kurt."

"I'll take that as a compliment," he said, feeling the words pulsing inside him, like his own heartbeat.  _You're really something else, Kurt._

* * *

Noah's mother brought Noah's sister Sarah along on their drive down to Dayton. Her only comment when she met Kurt was, "I thought you were a  _girl."_

"I sound like one," said Kurt, smiling, "but I'm not. I'm still a boy."

"Okay," she said, shrugging. "Can I have some of your gum, Noah?"

Kurt thought she might get obnoxious on that long drive, but she was perfectly content to watch out the window and play the alphabet game and I Spy with them. Mrs. Puckerman, on the other hand, spoke sharply to both of her children, but neither one seemed bothered by her tone. Kurt, sitting in the front, tried hard not to draw attention to himself. He read the copy of  _Twelfth Night_  he'd downloaded to his iPhone, trying to make sense of the arcane language.

"You don't bother your father, understand?" she told Noah when they reached the opera house. "You'll be in a world of trouble if I find out you were messing with him when he was trying to work."

"It'll be fine, Ma," Noah said calmly. "I'll call you tomorrow when we get up."

She smiled vaguely at Kurt. "Enjoy the play," she said. "You'd better call your dad and tell him you made it safe."

Noah bumped fists with his sister. She grinned, waving. "I'm going to eat your dessert tonight."

"Why doesn't she come to visit your dad, too?" Kurt asked, as they drove away.

"She doesn't really remember him. I guess she cares that he's her dad, but she's never really known him, except through visits. That doesn't count for much." He beckoned Kurt to come around the back. "Let me show you something."

The building was easily a hundred years old. Kurt followed him carefully around to the back, where there were steps that led down to the basement on the exterior of the building. At the bottom, a door was latched from the outside. Noah twirled the combination and removed the lock, pocketing it and leaving the door ajar. "Come on."

Kurt looked around a little nervously at the dusty, cobwebby cellar entrance, but he stepped through the door and followed Noah into the darkness. "Is there a light - oh."

Noah had pulled the string on the bare bulb to illuminate a vast storage room, full of stage props from the last several decades. Kurt thought they might easily be fifty or sixty years old, or even older than that. There were wigs and costumes and birdcages and old radios and pretend food and umbrellas and all manner of things to be used on the stage. Kurt was enchanted, walking around touching everything with a curious hand.

"Doesn't anybody come down here anymore?" Kurt said in awe.

"My dad does sometimes, but he has plenty to keep him busy. This building is falling apart around him." Noah smiled as Kurt picked up a black velvet half-cape and brushed off the dust. "I used to play down here when I was a little kid, opening trunks and making my own productions. It was pretty awesome."

"Lonely, I'd think," Kurt said, watching him. He shrugged.

"Hard to be lonely with all this stuff around. And I had a good imagination." Noah took a stuffed parrot from a perch and fixed it to his shoulder. He got a crafty gleam in his eye, and dropped his voice to a loud whisper: "I have words to speak in thine ear will make thee dumb, yet are they much too light for the bore of the matter."

Kurt laughed, feeling delighted. Noah grinned back at him as he set the parrot down again.

"You might as well see this before you meet my dad," he said. "I know I didn't tell you very much about him, but he's kind of... weird. And he's not always easy to understand."

"Okay," said Kurt uncertainly. They walked to the interior staircase leading to the upstairs, and Noah turned off the light before they walked the stairs. The door he opened led into a grand hallway, carpeted in red, finished in dark wood and lit subtly from above with chandeliers.

"Noah," he breathed, looking around them with wide eyes. "This is beautiful."

Noah pointed up the steps, touching Kurt lightly on the shoulder. "I remember standing on the staircase, right there, looking down on the people coming to the theater in their fancy clothes."

He smiled at the image. "How old were you?"

"Younger than Sarah, for sure. I'm pretty sure my mom wasn't with me." They ascended the broad carpeted staircase in the silent hall, looking at the framed photographs of scenes from previous shows. Kurt paused by one he recognized.

"That's your father," he said. Noah nodded, surprised.

"How'd you know? He's all made up; he doesn't look anything like himself."

"Sure, he does." Kurt touched the enlarged photo, reading the caption to himself:  _Aaron Puckerman as Polonius._  "See, the way his mouth is, and his jaw. He looks so much like you."

Noah gazed at the photo, his face unreadable. "Well... we'd better get this over with."

He led Kurt back down the stairs to a side hallway with several doors. Noah knocked softly on the middle one and opened it without waiting for an answer. "Hey, Dad. We're here."

Inside was a small office, walls papered with old playbills for shows. The desk was piled high with yellow duplicate forms and tools. The man who sat at the desk looked up as they entered. He smiled, but only one side of his mouth went up. The rest of his face drooped, unresponsive. His left hand was drawn in against his body; Kurt couldn't tell if it was functional or not. He tried to smile back.

"You're Kurt," said the man, his voice slow and indistinct. "Noah told me about you."

"I'm... glad to meet you," said Kurt, holding out his hand. The man met it with his own. It shook a little, but there was strength in his grip. Kurt could see Aaron Puckerman's face inside the man before him, though it was obscured by the changes in his body.

"I suppose Noah didn't tell you about  _me,"_  he said, sounding a little wry. "I had a stroke six years ago. I get along all right now, but it's been a long road."

Kurt nodded. "I saw pictures of you from performances on the opera house website. You... look so much like Noah. Or, rather, he looks like you."

"Used to," said Mr. Puckerman. "Not so much these days."

Kurt looked over and saw the hard, blank expression on Noah's face, the one he saw in school when Noah was doing something that would get him in trouble.  _I don't care,_  the look said, or, possibly,  _I care too much._

"Thank you for - the tickets," said Kurt. Mr. Puckerman gave him that lopsided smile again.

"Never seen Shakespeare before, I hear? Did Noah tell you how he played Duke Orsino in  _Twelfth Night_  last summer?" Mr. Puckerman turned to Noah, still grinning.

"Kurt doesn't want to hear about camp, Dad," Noah muttered.

Mr. Puckerman chuckled. "Hey, if I brought my boyfriend home to meet my dad, I'd want him to hear all the great stuff about me."

Noah's eyes snapped up to his father's, his eyes full of panic. He opened his mouth to respond. Kurt saw the expression with a descending sense of futility. He knew precisely what it meant.

He laughed brightly, covering his dismay. "Mr. Puckerman," he said, "I'm not Noah's boyfriend. He's straight."

"Oh," said Mr. Puckerman, looking between the two of them. "But Noah -"

"Kurt's right," Noah interrupted. "We're just friends. Sorry to disappoint you."

"No, no, my mistake." Mr. Puckerman stood with some effort, moving out from behind his desk. "Forgive me. I'm glad you came down to visit, Kurt. Enjoy the show."

When they returned to the grand hallway, there were other people there, dressed for a night out and speaking in hushed tones. Kurt's excitement, however, had been crushed. He followed Noah down the hall to the box office, feeling numb.

 _He's really never going to love me,_  he thought.  _I don't know what I was thinking._

"Hey, Noah," said the woman behind the counter, smiling at them. She handed him two ticket stubs. "Nice to see you. How's high school?"

"Kind of sucks," Noah shrugged. She nodded, unperturbed.

"It kind of does," she agreed. "But it gets better. Hang in there, and hope you guys enjoy the show. Felix is playing Malvolio."

Noah brightened at that. "He's hilarious," he murmured to Kurt. "You want something to eat before the show? There'll be food afterwards, but we've got time to grab something first, if you want."

"No," said Kurt. He couldn't imagine eating.  _This is all completely pointless. I shouldn't have come._

Noah just nodded, looking just as unhappy as Kurt imagined he did, and led them back down the hall to the theater. It was grand, painted with gilt and extravagant detail, rising to a ceiling high above them. They took programs and the usher helped them find their seats.

"This is really very nice, Noah," Kurt told him. "I'm sorry your dad got the wrong idea."

He looked at his lap and sighed. "No... I should have expected it. I mean... yeah, two guys like this... I know what it looks like. I just wanted..." He stopped, helplessly looking over at Kurt, who felt himself relenting.

 _I'm such a sucker,_  he thought viciously.  _I deserve whatever I get._

"No, really," Kurt said again. "It's okay. This... it can just be... what it is. It's just us, right?"

Noah nodded, still looking troubled. Kurt put a tentative hand on his shoulder.

"Please," he begged. "Don't worry about it. Can't we just enjoy the show? You're going to have to tell me what's going on, because I could barely understand what I was reading on the way down."

Noah gave him a reluctant smile. "Shakespeare's not like that, when you see it on the stage. It all makes sense. You'll see."

Kurt was rather surprised to discover Noah was right. From the moment the lights went down and Duke Orsino strode onto the stage, singing,  _"If music be the food of love / Play on..."_ , he was enthralled. It took just a few sentences for him to catch the flow of the language, and by the way the words were spoken, the body language, he  _did_  understand.

The audience did, too; they sighed and laughed at all the right spots. Kurt found himself watching Noah's animated face as often as he watched the stage, tracking the actors and sometimes murmuring lines along with them. At one scene change, he leaned in closer to Kurt.

"You getting it?" he whispered.

"Yes," Kurt assured him. He smiled, and felt the familiar twist in his stomach as Noah smiled back.

It wasn't a short play, but Kurt felt like time passed quickly as the love story unfolded. Viola, disguised as Cesario, professed her love for Duke Orsino. The pompous Malvolio was indeed hilarious without being ridiculous. Kurt was caught several times by unexpected laughter as Malvolio attempted to woo Olivia wearing yellow stockings. When intermission came, he was feeling more like himself.

"Oh, I feel bad for him," Kurt said, pointing to the picture of Malvolio in the program. "And it doesn't look from the summary that things get any better, either. He doesn't get a happy ending, does he?"

"No," agreed Noah. "He's kind of tragic like that. But, really, at least he's sure about who he is and what he wants. Even later, when they lock him up in a dark room overnight, he hangs on to that. I guess I admire that about him."

He looked at the woman playing Viola. "She's not a very convincing man."

Noah laughed. "Yeah, I guess Olivia and Orsino and everybody, they're pretty stupid to think she's a guy. But... people see what they want to see, right?"

Kurt was silent for a moment. "Is that why you didn't want to tell me about your dad? Because you thought I would see what I wanted to see?"

"No." He clenched his jaw. "I know what I see when I look at him."

"It's not his fault he had a stroke, Noah."

He glared at Kurt. "You think so? What if I told you he was high on cocaine? Wouldn't that be his own fucking fault? Yeah. He OD'd, and had a stroke.  _That's_  what I see. My loser father who couldn't even clean up long enough to take care of his family, because all he could do was lose himself in his work, and run away from his responsibilities."

Kurt flinched away from his vitriol. "Okay, that sucks," he said. "I can see why you'd be mad at him for that. But - god, he's human, right? He gets to make mistakes."

"Not like that. Not with your family." Noah was shaking his head, his hands tense on the armrests. "My mom told him  _never again,_  and he did it anyway. And she said, fuck you, I'm taking the kids and we're done with you."

Kurt brushed Noah's hand with his, and Noah clutched at it, crushing it in his grip. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Yeah." Noah closed his eyes and took a shaky breath. "Me, too. And now every time I look at him, that's all I can see. He sees it, too, in the mirror. I just keep waiting for him to discover that life isn't going to get any better, and take off. Or worse."

Kurt thought about his mother. "You'd survive, if he did. You could go on. You wouldn't die of a broken heart."

"I might," Noah insisted. His eyes were wild and desperate. "I don't know, but I think... I think I might."

"You wouldn't," said Kurt. "I'd be there."

"Oh." Noah laughed in surprise. He looked absolutely astounded by this idea. "You - really?"

"Yeah. I promise."

The lights dimmed for a moment, and people started to shuffle back to their seats. Noah and Kurt stood to make room for them as they went by, and Kurt's shoulder brushed against Noah's. He turned to see him, still staring at Kurt.

"How can you promise that?" Noah asked, in clear confusion.

"Because - you're my friend, and I - I will be." Kurt shook away the unspoken words. "Can't you just trust me?"

"I'll try?" he said. He sounded dubious, but Kurt touched his hand again, just briefly, and Noah looked somewhat reassured. He leaned closer as the lights went down. "Thank you." The words were whispered into Kurt's ear, and Kurt tried not to shiver.

The rest of the play was as crazy as the first half. Viola's twin brother Sebastian returned, and Olivia decided he was close enough to a substitute for Cesario to marry him instead. It was somewhat heartbreaking to see Viola's ruse come to an end, and to see Olivia's affections transferred so easily to another. Kurt wasn't sure why it bothered him so much until afterwards, when Noah turned to him and asked anxiously, "What did you think?"

"It was amazing," Kurt said honestly, and Noah gave him a huge, satisfied smile.

"I knew you'd get it," he said. Kurt wasn't sure he actually did get it, at least not the way Noah thought he did, but he didn't know how to say that without sounding like he wasn't enjoying it. Because he was, so much.

They moved quickly up the aisle to the lobby, then down a side door and out the back to the gardens. It was dark outside now, but still warm enough to be comfortable. Noah guided him down a path to a bench, where they could sit and watch the adults with their cocktails through the windows.

Noah stretched his legs. "That's the third time I've seen it performed, but we did it last summer, at theater camp. It's different when you know the whole thing by heart."

"Yes, watching  _Grease_  is definitely different now," Kurt agreed. "I liked  _Twelfth Night_ , but I think I would like it more if I knew the story better. I think I understood it, or most of it. It was kind of sad, though."

"Why sad? It was supposed to be a comedy."

"Because..." Kurt wasn't sure he could explain to Noah why it was sad. Because Viola, disguised as someone else, was still Viola, still loved Orsino - but Orsino didn't even consider her to be a possible partner until it was revealed that she was a girl.

"I guess I didn't like all the lying," Kurt said finally. "I think people should just say who they are and be done with it."

"Yeah?" Noah gazed at him levelly across the bench. "Like you're so honest about who you are?"

"I told  _you,"_  Kurt said, stung. "And Andrea."

"Yeah, but what do you think would happen if the whole school knew? You'd be totally screwed."

"I don't care what anybody else thinks," Kurt retorted. "They can believe whatever they want. I'm not going to change their minds, anyway, but at least I can be honest about who I am."

Noah snorted. "Who the fuck cares, if nobody wants to hang out with you and you get slushied every day?"

Kurt shook his head. "Seriously, Noah? Why would I want to hang out with anyone who didn't like me just because I'm gay?"

He stared across the yard. "I don't hang out with you. Not at school. And you like me anyway."

"That's because I -" Kurt captured the words on his tongue before they could escape. "I don't have very many friends," he concluded weakly. He tried to laugh. "And really, Noah, who could look at me and not know I'm gay?"

"I didn't know, until you told me." Noah still wasn't looking at him. "I guess I wasn't really thinking about it. I just thought you were a regular guy."

"I've never been just a  _regular guy_ ," Kurt said bitterly. Noah shifted, dangling his legs next to Kurt's, so their thighs touched.

"No," said Noah. He was very close to Kurt now. "You're really not."

Kurt held his breath for about five seconds before he realized that was stupid, and let it out in a little nervous laugh. "And you like  _me_  anyway."

"Yeah. I do. I... I like you a lot, Kurt."

Kurt was intensely aware of the warmth of Noah's body next to his, the closeness of his lips, his hand on his own knee. It would be easy to take his hand, and pretend, for just a moment, that there might be more between them than just this. But Kurt wasn't going to fool himself anymore. He'd seen the look on Noah's face when his father said  _your boyfriend._

"I'm glad," said Kurt. "I'm really glad."

The wind had begun to pick up, but Kurt didn't really notice the weather until fat raindrops started to patter around them into the garden. Noah swore, rising to his feet. "Come on. I have to lock the cellar anyway."

They hurried back down the steps to the door, which Noah held open for him. "I have to lock it from the outside," he said. "You go inside, and I'll come around and meet you in the prop room."

Kurt didn't really want to be alone in the dark basement, but it was better than getting drenched by the rain, so he went inside. Immediately he bumped into a table, scattering things on the cement floor. "Shit," he hissed, grabbing his bruised shin. He knew there was a lightbulb around here somewhere. He felt around for the string for several long minutes, but couldn't locate it.

He thought he heard quiet footsteps on the stairs. "Noah?" he called out, embarrassed by how frightened he sounded.

"Here," he said. "Where are you?"

"I'll come to you," said Kurt. "Just keep talking."

There was a pause, then as Kurt crept through the room, Noah began to speak words that were vaguely familiar:

"O spirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou  
That, notwithstanding thy capacity  
Receiveth as the sea, naught enters there,  
Of what validity and pitch so e'er,  
But falls into abatement and low price  
Even in a minute! So full of shapes is fancy  
That it alone is -"

Kurt exclaimed as he bumped full into Noah, and felt his arms go around him, holding him steady against his broad chest.

"- high fantastical," he murmured.

"That was Duke Orsino," said Kurt. His heart beat, loud and heavy. He could feel Noah's, his hand trapped between the two of them.

"Yeah." Noah stepped back, then preceded him up the stairs. "He was kind of a jerk, really. I don't know what Viola saw in him."

"Don't they say love is blind?" said Kurt, feeling out of breath. "I doubt she was thinking much about his noble virtues when she had her hands on his ass."

Noah burst into a fit of laughter. When they emerged into the light at the top of the stairs, he was still grinning. Then he hugged Kurt, quick and tight and sudden, like a pounce. It made Kurt squeak a little, which embarrassed him to no end, but Noah didn't seem to notice.

"Thanks for coming with me," he whispered. Just as suddenly, he let him go again. "We should find my dad before he starts to wonder where we are."

* * *

Kurt learned that adults after a performance weren't so different from kids after a performance. The actors were high on the energy and enjoying their alcohol for some time before calling it a night. Luckily there were plenty of snacks, and somebody had ordered sandwiches. They managed to scavenge enough food to satisfy their hunger.

"Who would have known that Shakespearian actors could be so crass?" Kurt murmured, from their vantage point on the staircase. Noah grinned at Kurt over his cup of dubious mixed liquids.

"Actors are actors, right? These guys would do  _Grease_ , too, if they had the right paycheck. At least they'd do the real version, not the stupid cleaned up high school version."

Kurt thought their version of  _Grease_  had managed to stay plenty sexual, even after being cleaned up, but he imagined Noah had a wider experience in that field than he did. He leaned against the banister, watching the conversation below.

"So you think you want this?" asked Kurt. Noah looked uncomfortable.

"What?

"This. You want to be an actor someday? Live like your dad did?"

"I'm not going to live like my dad," Noah said sharply. "He was a fucking screw-up. I'm not going to be anything like him."

"Okay." Kurt put a hand on Noah's ankle, and heard him sigh. "That's not what I meant."

"I think about it sometimes." Noah squinted across the hall at the opposite wall, where photos were hung along the staircase. "Those pictures of my dad on the stage... they're the best thing he ever did. And it was in  _Dayton._  Don't you think he could have gone someplace, done something with his life? He could have performed in London... New York... but instead he stayed here. For what?"

"Noah," Kurt said, smiling. "I've known him for one evening, and I can tell he loves you. I don't think  _he_  thinks those performances were the best thing he ever did. Otherwise he would have left you and your mom years ago."

"Yeah, maybe. But he couldn't stay away from the coke." Noah's lip twisted. "I think the drive down here every day got to him. Young parents, they don't get much sleep. Maybe he needed it to keep going."

"Maybe. He made those choices five years ago. I'm guessing he'd make different ones now, if he had them to do over again."

Noah looked at the floor between his knees, leaning forward on his elbows, his hands clasped in front of him. "He had an affair."

"What?"

"Just before my Ma got pregnant with Sarah. Some waitress down here. He had this all-night diner he used to take me to..." Noah's face got hard again. "I don't think he knows I knew about it. But I did."

Kurt nodded slowly. "People make stupid mistakes sometimes. Especially about sex."

"Yeah. I just don't want to turn out the same way. Everybody tells me I'm just like my dad. This theater camp, he went to it when he was a kid, and they all think I'm, like, the Messiah or something." Noah scoffed. "What a fucking joke. If they only knew, right? There I can be a big deal, the star. And at home, I'm the screw-up, the bad kid. And here..."

Kurt watched his eyes travel back to the pictures on the wall. "Here, you're your dad's son," he said. Noah nodded.

"It's like he needs me to do it for him, to do the things he can't do anymore." Noah twisted his fingers together in frustration. "I don't want to let him down."

"I bet he would be happy with whatever you wanted to be," said Kurt. "Even if you didn't want to be on the stage."

"Yeah, maybe. And my mom, I think she would rather I do anything other than theater. She's always pushed me into sports, made a big deal about that. She never came to one of my performances over the summer. Always blamed it on her schedule, but I knew what was really going on." He shook his head. "It's so fucked up."

"I think all families are. My dad was a big mess after my mom died. I guess I was, too. I mean, I was eight; I don't know how much of a big mess anybody can be when they're eight."

Noah gave him a small smile. "Did you guys do therapy? After your mom died?" Kurt shook his head. "You're lucky. We had family therapy, after my dad OD'd. It fucking sucked, to watch them sitting there, trying to talk about all the things that were wrong with their marriage, in front of me. I just wanted to disappear."

"I can't imagine my dad in therapy," Kurt admitted. "I think he would try to talk football and play with his hat a lot. He's a great dad, don't get me wrong, but he's not so big with the talking."

"You're not so big with the talking, either, Kurt," Noah said, nudging him with his knee.

"You noticed that, huh?" Kurt smiled. "But not with you."

"No." Noah grinned back. "Or me, either, with you. I guess I must trust you."

"That's just about the best thing I've ever heard." Kurt looked away before it could start to feel awkward, but Noah was still watching him as he stood and moved down the staircase. "I'm going to get my coat."

There were still plenty of people hanging around in the dressing rooms and in the lobby, but Mr. Puckerman didn't look disappointed to leave. Everyone waved and said goodbye to Noah. Most of them asked about theater camp, and Noah just said, "I did a show in Lima over the summer instead."

"Does your dad know about why you were in Lima?" Kurt asked in a low voice. Noah shook his head, watching his dad in the front seat of his car.

"I just told him I didn't get a scholarship, and my mom couldn't afford to send me."

Kurt wondered again what Noah had done to deserve an entire summer of detention, but he figured it wasn't polite to ask.

He dozed there in the back seat until they reached Mr. Puckerman's apartment. He was already half-asleep by the time they made it up to the third floor.

"You can have the couch," Noah said, digging in the closet. He handed Kurt a pillow and some blankets, and unrolled a sleeping bag onto the floor.

Kurt had seldom slept in another room with a boy. He'd had sleepovers before, but not recently, and it had almost always been with girls. He lay awake on the couch, listening to the unfamiliar sounds of the apartment and the street outside, and tried not to be aware of Noah there beside him.

"Your dad's nice," Kurt said. He heard Noah's soft sigh.

"Yeah, if you don't see all the ways he screws up. Did I tell you he forgot my birthday this summer? I just have to not care if he's there or not, and sometimes that's hard."

"That's your answer? Stop caring about him?" Kurt rolled onto his side, propping himself up with his elbow. "How's that working for you?"

"Fuck you," Noah said. "Of course I care about him. I just can't... you know, be invested. Like, if he doesn't come to performances, I have to remember it's not because he doesn't want to."

"Why wouldn't he come, then?"

"Because I took away everything he had. He was this big prodigy on the stage. But me - I wasn't in the plan. I was the mistake. My Ma wanted to keep me; my dad wanted to keep performing, to keep doing what he was doing. Then they started fighting, and his drug use got worse, and..."

"Noah." Kurt sat up. "You are not telling me you think it's  _your fault_  that he overdosed and had that stroke?"

"Well, why else would he have kept using?" Noah said. He sounded miserable. "If he hadn't been a dad, everything would have been different."

"Yeah. He wouldn't have had you. And you're amazing."

There was silence. Noah sighed. "I don't feel all that amazing, Kurt."

"I know. But let me keep telling you you are, okay? Maybe it'll stick one of these days."

"Maybe," said Noah softly. "Thank you."

"It's my pleasure," he replied, and he meant it.

* * *

[ _http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-qX-EHUIwQ4_ ](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-qX-EHUIwQ4)

_The sun is filling up the room  
_ _And I can hear you dreaming  
_ _Do you feel the way I do right now?  
_ _I wish we would just give up  
_ _Cause the best part is falling  
_ _Call it anything but love_

_And I will make sure to keep my distance_   
_Say "I love you" when you're not listening_   
_How long can we keep this up, up, up?_

_And please don't stand so close to me_   
_I'm having trouble breathing_   
_I'm afraid of what you'll see right now_   
_I give you everything I am_   
_All my broken heart beats_   
_Until I know you understand_

_And I will make sure to keep my distance_   
_Say "I love you" when you're not listening_   
_How long can we keep this up, up, up?_

_And I keep waiting_   
_For you to take me_   
_You keep waiting_   
_To save what we have_

_So I'll make sure to keep my distance_   
_Say "I love you" when you're not listening_   
_How long can we keep this up, up, up?_

_Make sure to keep my distance_   
_Say "I love you" when you're not listening_   
_How long til we call this love, love, love?_

_\- Christina Perri, "Distance"_


	3. Winter 2009

**Winter 2009**

After that weekend, Kurt felt like Noah started to trust him more. Things were no different at school, but he met Kurt almost every day after school at his house. Sometimes they read, and sometimes they did other homework. Noah was intuitive about math in a way Kurt had never been, and Kurt could help him wade through the language in their science textbook.

Sometimes, though, they would just sit and talk on the couch. When it got cold outside, Kurt made them hot chocolate, and Noah would warm his hands on the cocoa mug and tell Kurt what was happening with his father, or at home. Kurt could share most of what he was thinking and feeling with Noah, although there were some things that he still kept hidden. He figured Noah didn't need to hear about his sex dreams.

But it occurred to Kurt that Noah wasn't telling him much about the girls he dated, either. One day after they finished a chapter of  _Lord of the Flies_ , he braced himself, and asked, "So, have you been seeing anyone?"

Noah gave him a cautious shrug. "Nobody important. Sometimes Santana and I go out for a burger."

"Do you... like her?"

"Kind of, yeah. She can be fucking hilarious, but other times she's super mean. Anyway, what's this all about, Kurt?"

"Nothing. I just realized we talk about everything except... you know."

"Sex?"

Kurt was going to say something like  _dating,_  but he didn't flinch away from the word. "Yes. That."

Noah regarded Kurt with curiosity. "Are  _you_  seeing anyone?"

"What? No!" Kurt was indignant. "Don't you think I would have told you?"

"Yeah, I think you would have, but maybe this was your way to get around to it. No big."

Kurt frowned at him. "Who would I even  _date,_  anyway? Nobody else at our school is gay."

"That you know of."

Kurt had his suspicions about plenty of people, but they were all both well out of his league and not exactly his type. Judging by his fantasies, which seemed to be ramping up recently to new levels of smuttiness, he preferred them tanned, forceful and well-muscled. "That I know of," he amended. "I wouldn't even know where to start."

"Well, either you come out and see who follows suit, or you go looking to meet guys at other schools." Noah scratched his head. "I might know a couple guys you would like..."

"Noah. You're  _not_  going to set me up on a  _date."_

He grinned. "Why not? It doesn't all have to be epic romance, does it? Sometimes it can just be about a good time."

"I think I know what you mean by  _good time,_ " he said icily, "and trust me, I'm not ready for that. I mean, I haven't even had my first kiss."

Noah seemed fascinated by this idea. "Really? I don't even remember mine."

"Exactly. I want it to be special. Memorable. If I go around kissing every guy who wants to, it won't be. So I'm waiting until it feels right."

It was a good speech. Kurt knew at least half of the reason he hadn't kissed anyone was because he was scared to death of it, but the other half of the time, he was dreaming about kissing, and a lot more than that. He wasn't going to stoop to looking at porn on the Internet or anything, but he'd given up trying to stifle his nighttime urges, figuring it was a normal thing for a boy to do. And, okay, maybe more than a couple times, he'd imagined Noah doing the same thing in his own house, propped up against the wall, his head thrown back, chest bare... he swallowed.

"Fair enough," Noah agreed, nodding. "Another chapter?"

When he was heading out the door to walk home that afternoon, Noah paused, looking embarrassed.

"I, uh. I have a date tonight. Not Santana. Somebody I met over the summer, at theater camp."

"Yeah?" Kurt tried to smile. "Well, I hope you have a good time. I mean..."

"I know what you mean," Noah said, smiling back. "And yeah, I think I will." He hesitated. "Do you want me to... tell you about it tomorrow?"

Kurt considered this. On one hand, it was kind of torturous to hear about Noah's fascination with the fairer sex, and the pictures it put into Kurt's head weren't pretty. On the other, he didn't want Noah to feel like he had to keep anything from Kurt. He nodded. "Try to keep it PG, if you wouldn't mind. I'm somewhat inexperienced."

"I got it," Noah agreed. "I'll catch you tomorrow."

He texted Noah the next morning on his way to school with the question,  _How was your date?_

 _Pretty hot,_  Noah replied.  _We had pizza. not a lot of talking._

Kurt sighed. He supposed he deserved that.  _You think you'll see her again?_

_Yeah, probably. it's not srius. just blowing off steam. haha._

Kurt walked into Mrs. Wright's class with a red face to find Noah chuckling to himself in the back row. "Something funny, Noah?" asked Mrs. Wright.

"Just something I said to a friend," he said.

Kurt almost turned around and smiled at him, but he decided to let it be. Noah was talking to him. So what if it made him a little uncomfortable? That's what friends were for, after all.

As soon as Noah entered his house that afternoon, Kurt gave him a great big punch on the tricep. "Ow!" Noah said, rubbing his arm.

"Blowing off steam. Really." Kurt glared at him. "God, I said PG, didn't I?"

"Hey, I've been doing  _that_  since before I was twelve," he grinned. "Just because you're a prude..."

"Just because I have some standards," Kurt retorted. He folded himself into the corner of the couch and opened their book. "And, ew."

"No ew," Noah assured him. "It's fucking awesome. Giving and receiving."

Kurt covered his ears. "Not listening...  _not_  thinking about it..."

But of course, he did. That night, for the first time ever he dreamed about Noah lowering his own zipper right in front of Kurt's face while he offered to let him  _blow off some steam._  In his dream, it wasn't ew at all, but he acknowledged to himself that a  _real_  encounter with another body would include smells and textures and expectations he wasn't ready to fulfill. Not to mention the emotional component.

 _Tell that to my hormones,_  Kurt thought dismally, as he got up to change his pajama pants.

* * *

"We're going on a field trip," announced Mrs. Wright after winter break. "The Dayton Theater Guild is performing  _Pygmalion,_  and we're taking the bus down to see a matinee. Please make sure to return this permission slip by next week with your parents' signature."

Kurt decided to suggest he and Noah do a dramatic reading together.  _Pygmalion_  was great fun, and he would take on the part of the Flower Girl with gusto, leaving Henry to Noah. But Noah wasn't crazy about the idea.

"What if you got the part of Higgins?" Kurt said. "How would you learn it?"

"By myself," Noah said, glaring at him. "Until I could get a recording of somebody reading it. Then I would listen to it a bunch of times until I had it memorized."

"A bunch of times?" echoed Kurt. He squinted at Noah. "How many times would it take for you to be able to memorize a whole play?"

"I don't know. I can usually get most of it after two, three times." He sneered at Kurt's stare. "What? That's not so bad."

"So, if I said the lines to you, could you say them back to me?" Kurt held out his copy of the script.

"Sure," Noah said. "Go ahead."

Kurt reviewed the first couple pages. "There are a lot of parts... let me skip forward to find a two-person dialogue."

"I can handle a girl part," Noah said. He tapped the script. "We'll go back and forth. Start at the beginning. Just read all the stage directions for me, okay?"

"Sure," said Kurt, bemused. He set the stage for Noah, reading the notes aloud. "Okay, um... 'I'm getting chilled to the bone. What can Freddy be doing all this time? He's been gone twenty minutes."

Noah echoed him exactly, with his own interpretation. They went through the entire first act like that, Kurt reading every other line twice, and Noah repeating it. It wasn't nearly as confusing as Kurt expected. What amazed him, in addition to Noah's nearly word-perfect parroting of his lines, was Noah's facility with the various British accents. Kurt could detect differences between Noah's Cockney for Eliza and the upper class accents of Higgins and his family, but he had no idea how he'd come up with them, or how to mimic them.

"Oh, what harm is there in my leaving Lisson Grove?" Noah lamented in his Cockney. "It wasn't fit for a pig to live in; and I had to pay four-and-six a week. Oh, boo—hoo—oo—"

Kurt collapsed on the couch, laughing. Noah watched him with satisfaction.

"You're incredible," Kurt gasped, putting a hand to his mouth. "How do you _do_  that? Just take on the character?"

"I don't know," Noah said, shrugging. "I guess I listen to the way it would sound in my head, if somebody was really saying it, and make it sound like that."

"Well, I wish you could teach me how. I'm jealous."

"It's about time," Noah said, touching Kurt's arm. His voice was kind, even fond, and Kurt blushed. "Seriously, Kurt, you're good at  _everything_. It's kind of intimidating being your friend."

"Oh, is that why I don't have any friends?" Kurt replied, with a grimace. "I was wondering."

Noah tightened his hand. "At least your friends like you for who you are."

Kurt just smiled, returning to the script. When they were done, Noah returned to the beginning of Act 1.

"Okay," he said. "You just read every other line this time. Let's see how well I remember."

Noah wasn't perfect on the second read-through, but he did a hell of a lot better than Kurt could have done after only one reading. Noah didn't even stutter on the parts he couldn't remember; he just improvised. Kurt shook his head in disbelief.

"Maybe you should be tutoring me in drama," he said.

Noah grinned, making a little bow. "I'd be obliged, I'm sure," he said in Cockney.

* * *

Kurt walked into Mrs. Wright's class a week later to find her sitting with Noah at her desk, talking to him in quiet tones. She smiled at Kurt as he came in, holding up a hand for him to wait at the door.

"If you don't think he'd be willing," she was saying.

"No, he'd totally do it," Noah said. "I just don't know. He's kind of hard to understand sometimes."

"You can decide if it would make you uncomfortable, Noah. I think it would be great to get a tour, but it's up to you."

Kurt could imagine several of the students in their class being disrespectful of Mr. Puckerman's disability, but he doubted they would have that much trouble understanding him. Noah was quieter than usual after school, though, and Kurt suspected he was wrestling with Mrs. Wright's offer.

"I think your dad's really brave to stay at the opera house," said Kurt, over their customary snacks. "I bet it's hard for him to be around all those memories, the shadows of his successes, and not to be able to do it anymore. Like an athlete with a broken leg being a coach."

"Yeah, maybe that would hold some water if I thought he could do  _anything_  else." Noah ate a handful of popcorn. "I just assumed he stayed there because he couldn't get another job. For the first couple years after the stroke, he could barely lift a stack of books, and he couldn't climb stairs for a long time. Loads of rehab, and they still kept him on."

Kurt watched Noah's hands across the table, their strength and dexterity. He tried to focus. "That's a long time to be at one place. It would be like a family, I imagine."

Noah nodded, looking troubled. "Yeah... he kind of lost his, for a while. I'm glad he had the opera house."

"Do you think your mom did the right thing, divorcing him, after the overdose?" asked Kurt softly.

He didn't answer for a while. Finally he sighed. "I don't know. She couldn't change him. She couldn't save him from his stupid self. She just had to... let go, I guess."

"We all make our own mistakes," Kurt agreed. "But he stopped taking drugs, I'm assuming?"

"Yeah. I mean, I think so. He says he's clean, but... you never know, I guess?" Noah smiled wryly. "At some point you just have to trust that people are who they say they are, if you're going to love them."

* * *

On the day of the field trip, Mrs. Wright announced to the class that the building caretaker would be leading them on a guided tour of the opera house. "He's put together a scavenger hunt for you," she said. "You have to find artifacts from twenty different plays on display around the building. The answers will provide letters which, scrambled together, answer a question about theater. I'll assign you a partner."

Noah and Kurt were paired together, prompting snickers from some of the other boys, but Noah just shrugged. "Whatever."

Kurt sat in the seat behind Noah's on the bus, texting him.  _This scavenger hunt thing isn't really fair, is it?_

 _Yeah, I'm doing the whole thing now._ Noah brandished the paper in front of him, and Kurt could see that half the letters were already filled in.  _Seriously, she should have picked a harder question about theater._

Kurt grinned to himself.  _So what are we going to do while everybody else is working on the scavenger hunt?_

_I'll think of something._

They began in the lobby, where Mr. Puckerman met them on the stairs. He introduced himself and the building in his halting, indistinct speech. Kurt felt a little protective of him, seeing some of the kids drawing away from his lopsided appearance. Noah didn't do anything other than skulk in the back, but Mr. Puckerman didn't acknowledge him at all.

"Theater is more than just words or music," he said laboriously. "It's the experience. Before the lights even go down, you're transported to another world. Here is the portal." He held up his good arm to indicate the grand foyer. "For each production, hundreds of hours of labor go into making you believe that what you see on the stage is real. It's not like a virtual reality video game or a clever animation. Performers must use their voices and bodies to make you forget there is a stage. It is our hope that, every time the curtain goes up and you awake from that altered state, you are changed somehow by your journey."

Mr. Puckerman led them around the theater, showing them the  _Pygmalion_  set, the pit, the wings and all the spaces backstage. They saw the contemporary prop room, but Kurt was glad Noah had shown him the basement the last time; it was a hundred times more interesting. There was also a workshop and an enormous closet full of costumes. Kurt would have loved to have spent hours back there, talking to the costume designers, learning about their process, but he didn't want to call undue attention to himself.

"You have half an hour to explore the building for the scavenger hunt," said Mr. Puckerman. "You'll find props from famous plays, from Yorick's skull to Desdemona's handkerchief. All artifacts will be found on display; you won't have to break any rules to find them, so please stay in the public areas. We'll meet down in the theater afterwards."

He held out a hand to stop Noah and Kurt as they went past. "I left a scrapbook on my desk," he said quietly. "I thought it might hold your attention better than the scavenger hunt."

He remained in the great hall while Noah and Kurt disappeared down the side hallway to Mr. Puckerman's office. "Scrapbook?" said Kurt. Noah made a face.

"If it's what I think it is, it's my dad trying to deflect attention from himself. Just... I'm sorry, in advance, okay?"

Kurt nodded, mystified. Noah opened the door, closing it behind himself, and groaned.

"Yeah. I thought so." He gestured at the rusty desk chair. "Have a seat. Let me introduce you to me."

Noah opened the large, rectangular book on the desk to the first page. Affixed with scrapbook corners was a faded color photograph of a curly-haired baby, wearing a cowboy hat and a diaper and smiling up at the camera. Kurt clapped a hand to his mouth.

"Yeah, yeah, I was cute," Noah sighed. "First show."

He turned the page. There was Noah on the stage, surrounded by adults, wearing a nightshirt. He couldn't have been older than five.

" _Peter Pan?_ " Kurt cried. Noah winced.

"Yeah, I was Michael. Remember the guy who played Malvolio - Felix? He was Hook."

"You were so young." Kurt ran a finger over the picture. Noah's face was already red, but he reached out and turned the page. "Oh!"

In this photo, Noah was dressed in sparkles and gauzy fabric, posing with two older girls in similar attire. " _A Midsummer Night's Dream,"_  he said. "I remember how late we had to stay up for rehearsals. I missed school for three days."

 _Beautiful,_  Kurt wanted to say, but that was just entirely unacceptable, so he kept his mouth shut.

The next page had Noah posed with several other children and a woman in a dirty dress, holding a bouquet of flowers. Kurt looked at the caption. " _My Fair Lady!"_  he exclaimed. "You played one of the children at the beginning - no wonder you knew your Cockney accent so well."

"Next page," Noah drawled. "You should get this one. Check out the crutch."

"Tiny Tim." Kurt smiled to see Noah aloft on the shoulder of a big man, holding a goose. " _A Christmas Carol._  I thought you were Jewish?"

"God bless us, every one," Noah chirped. "Yeah, I think half of that cast were Jewish. Pretty hilarious. I've done a couple Dickens, but mostly bit parts in Shakespeare plays. Fleance in  _Macbeth._  Louis in  _The King and I._ Bernard in  _Death of a Salesman._ " He continued to page through the scrapbook. "Charley Bates in  _Oliver._  That was the last show I did in Dayton. Then there were a couple years when I didn't do anything."

"After the divorce?" asked Kurt.

"After my dad's OD. My mom didn't let us see him for a while. I was eleven when my dad convinced her to let me audition for summer theater." This picture was an older Noah, almost a teenager, looking cross. He was holding a blanket. "Linus, in  _You're A Good Man, Charlie Brown."_

"Oh my god," Kurt whispered. "I saw that show. Andrea was a freshman. That was  _you?"_

"Yeah," Noah admitted. "I actually sucked my thumb on stage because Wright told me to. Then, the year after that, I went to New York for theater camp. We did a Shakespeare production and a second play each summer.  _Hamlet_  and  _Our Town_  last year;  _Twelfth Night_  and  _Brighton Beach Memoirs_  the the year before that."

"How was it?" Kurt could tell already from the expression on Noah's face, but he wanted to hear him say it.

"It was fucking incredible. Everybody was wicked talented, most of them doing community theatre since they were kids. I was so pissed at Mrs. Campbell when she flunked me out of Lit & Comp. She had no idea what she was taking away from me." He paused on a picture of Noah, looking almost like himself now, as Joe Crowell in  _Our Town._  "Next summer, for sure."

Kurt's throat closed up. "You - won't be doing summer theater with Encore?"

Noah looked suddenly stricken. He opened his mouth to reply when the door opened to the hallway and Noah's father beckoned the two of them back out to the hallway.

"Five minutes to curtain," he said.

The play was excellent, with Felix playing the part of Henry Higgins. The woman who played Eliza was very funny, but Kurt had a hard time feeling sympathetic to her. He preferred Noah's interpretation of her character. At the end, the cast came out on the proscenium and sat with their class, answering questions.

"So what props did you find for the scavenger hunt?" Felix asked. There were many of them: Romeo's bottle of poison, Ophelia's flowers, rings from  _The Merchant of Venice._

"Great. Who figured out the mystery quote?" The woman playing Eliza surveyed the house, shading her eyes. "Come on. Anybody? Noah, how about you?"

All eyes snapped to Noah, who sneered at her. For a minute, Kurt thought he might stand and walk out. But then he stole a glance at Kurt, sighed, and raised his voice to carry across the auditorium. "It's from Thornton Wilder. 'Theatre is the greatest of all art forms, the most immediate way in which a human being can share with another the sense of what it is to be a human being.'"

* * *

<http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AcU0IyjCm5Q>

_Sometimes things bounce off me_  
_Sometimes they cut right through_  
_Sometimes I get caught up in them_  
_I'm caught up in you_

_I can be steel if that's what you need_  
_I can be a screen door_  
_But if you want more I'm sorry_  
_I gave everything_

_Sometimes I get lazy_  
_Sometimes I think it's o.k._  
_My future looks hazy_  
_I'm taking it day by day_

_Don't it make time fly_  
_When you turn your head_  
_And blink your eyes_  
_And baby ain't it strange_  
_The way fate can twist_  
_With a single change_

_\- Kristen Hall, "I Gave Everything"_


	4. Summer 2009

They read six novels together freshman year, including  _The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian,_  which they both loved,  _The Hot Zone,_ which Noah thought was awesome but made Kurt cringe, and  _Inventing Elliot,_ which Kurt insisted they read but they both decided it wasn't as good as the hype.

Then, abruptly, Kurt turned around and realized it was the end of his freshman year, and they had two weeks left. And Noah would be leaving for theater camp in three.  _Not enough time finish a whole book,_  he thought desperately.

But Kurt didn't want to be obnoxious about it. He suggested to Noah they take a breather and watch some movies together instead. "I know just the one to begin with," he said. "I figured out what movie you thought was about Ender, and I got it from the library."

Noah made fun of the ancient CGI graphics in  _The Last Starfighter,_ but Kurt could tell he enjoyed it anyway. He sighed happily as the credits rolled over the triumphant theme.

"You pick the next one," Kurt suggested. Noah pressed his lips together, his eyes dancing.

"You sure? Anything I want?"

"Anything but porn," Kurt amended, making Noah crack up.

"I wouldn't dare. But okay. I'll bring it with me tomorrow."

It turned out to be a movie version of a play,  _Cyrano de Bergerac._ It was one Kurt had heard of but hadn't seen performed. "We're doing it this summer," Noah said, sliding the DVD in. "I'm really hoping for Cyrano, but after being gone last year, I don't know if they're going to give me anything big."

<http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QEacXeAbHpQ>

The language was complicated and rich, but easier to understand than Shakespeare. Kurt found himself admiring the sarcastic, smart Cyrano, with his enormous nose and quick temper. The swordfighting scenes were excellent, but Noah was clearly more interested in the character. He laughed out loud in the midst of the scene in the tavern, in which a patron has elected to make fun of Cyrano's nose: "THOUGHTFUL: Somebody fetch my parasol... those delicate colors fade so in the sun!"

"I think I've seen this before," Kurt whispered, but Noah gestured for him to be quiet. He was enthralled.

Noah turned to him as soon as the credits rolled on de Bergerac's tragic death. He looked as determined as Kurt had ever seen him. "I have to play this part, Kurt."

"It means giving up the role of Lysander in  _Midsummer Night's Dream,"_  said Kurt. Noah had explained to him how the leads in one play always took the supporting roles in the other. He waved it away.

"I can do Lysander another time. This... this is  _my_  part." He focused on Kurt, dropping his brows and growling out the words from the end of the Nose monologue:

"Moreover if you had the invention, here,  
Before these folks, to make a jest of me  
Be sure you would not then articulate  
The twentieth part of half a syllable  
Of the beginning! For I say these things  
Lightly enough myself, about myself,  
But, I allow none else to utter them."

Kurt had to admit the part was exquisite, and Noah was brash, arrogant and snide enough to pull it off. And Noah, growling _anything_ , was bound to show up again in Kurt's guilty dreams. He tried not to let his eyes flutter closed. "Yes - definitely," he squeaked. "Cyrano."

But Kurt wondered what might happen if Noah didn't get the part. Would he fly off the handle? At least there wasn't any danger of him flunking English this semester, not with Kurt tutoring him.

Suddenly Noah grabbed Kurt's hands. "Kurt," he said, "come with me to New York this summer. Audition for theater camp with me."

"Noah, I - there's no way I would get in," Kurt protested. "I'm not anywhere near as good as you."

"Fuck that. You're  _damn_ good. Good enough to get a scholarship." Kurt had never seen him look like this, pleading with him. "This summer wouldn't be the same without you."

It was so tempting. Kurt looked away. "I can't. My dad's counting on me to work at the garage this summer. He had to let one guy go already, and his closer has a pregnant wife, and... I just can't."

Noah's jaw tensed. Kurt braced himself for the explosion. But instead, he let Kurt's hands go, and nodded.

"Do you get cell access there?" Kurt asked.

"Yeah," said Noah. Kurt smiled.

"I could read to you. Pick a book, and we'll start it the day you leave."

Noah's smile was breathtaking. "Yeah," he said again, looking mollified. "That would be awesome. I'll choose one. And you pick the movie tomorrow."

* * *

The evening before Noah's departure, he still hadn't heard from him. Kurt was beginning to think he might leave without stopping by. But finally, at half past nine, Noah appeared on Kurt's front step, waving a book with excitement.

"Why didn't you  _tell_  me there was a sequel?" he cried. "It's not Ender grown up with the buggers. It's the same story, again, but from Bean's point of view." He put the book triumphantly in Kurt's hands, his eyes shining. "Check it out."

Kurt read the back of  _Ender's Shadow,_  smiling. Noah was certainly a far cry from the boy who was sure every book in the world was boring and impossible. "This is perfect," he agreed. "We'll start tomorrow. Can you call me when you get settled and let me know what time works for you?"

Noah looked over at Kurt's dad, waiting by the couch. "Hey, Mr. H," he said. "I'm heading off to New York for the summer."

"Kurt told me," he said, approaching. "You'll be missed. I'm glad you're staying in touch. Good luck getting that part, the guy with the big nose."

"Yeah, we'll see." Noah didn't look worried, though. "I'll call you, Kurt." Burt drifted back to the television, and Noah stepped forward awkwardly. "I'll miss you," he added.

"Yeah." He resolved not to cry, but he clutched tightly at Noah, closing his eyes and fixing the moment in his memory. He let go first. "You're going to have a great time."

"Probably. And you're gonna do summer theater at the Encore, right?"

Kurt nodded. "Mrs. Wright chose  _Oklahoma._  It'll be fine."

"Yeah, that's your kind of thing." Noah grinned at him. The expression on his face made Kurt look away, blushing. "Let me know how auditions go. See you, Kurt."

"See you." He closed the door behind him, watching Noah head down the street. When he turned around, his dad was there again, watching him.

"You okay?" he asked.

Kurt smiled, trying to look brave. He knew there was no point in trying to tell his dad this didn't mean anything. "He's my best friend," he said, tasting the words. They felt true. "I'll miss him."

* * *

_Oklahoma_  definitely wasn't one of Kurt's favorite musicals, but it had a bunch of catchy tunes, and they wouldn't have any trouble casting it. There were several strong girls, including Andrea. Even though she'd graduated, she assured Kurt she wasn't missing her last summer at the Encore.

"Henry's gone now," Kurt said, sitting in the gazebo with her one morning, eating breakfast. "Michael could play Curley, or Will. You want the part of Laurey or Ado Annie?"

"I don't care. I'm not trying to get a lead; I just like being on stage. The dancing's the most fun." She looked excited. "At Ohio State they do three musicals a year."

"Have you thought about more serious theater? Shakespeare, something like that?"

Andrea shrugged, taking a bite of cereal. "Maybe. It's not quite the same, is it? A lot more work, a lot less fun?"

Kurt thought about the way Noah had been absorbed by the part of Cyrano from the moment the movie began, and how much fun it had been to do the voices in  _Pygmalion_. "I don't know. I'd like to give it a try. Does Mrs. Wright ever do anything like that?"

"For summer theater? Not to my knowledge, but you could ask her. Maybe she'd help you put on your own performance. You could do it, Kurt. You'd be a great director."

"One thing at a time," he said, but he took the idea and kept it with him, considering it every now and then.

Angela drove them to auditions that afternoon. It felt so good to be back at the Encore, surrounded by familiar faces, but he had to admit he was really missing Noah. Andrea mentioned it while they were filling out their forms.

"You guys hung out a lot this year," she said. She raised an eyebrow. "Anything you want to tell me?"

"We're friends," Kurt said. "That's a lot, right?"

Andrea's smile was understanding. "Sure. Yeah, of course. That is a lot."

Mrs. Wright asked about Noah right away, too. "I heard they were doing  _Midsummer,_ and what else?"

" _Cyrano,"_  said Kurt. "Noah's absolutely in love with the part. But he wanted Lysander, too, so he's got to decide which one he's going to audition for."

"And what about you?" she asked. Kurt didn't understand. "You. Which part do you want, in  _Oklahoma?"_

"I... assumed chorus," he stammered. "Did you... what were you thinking?"

She contemplated him calmly. "Do you suppose you could handle the part of Will Parker?"

"I don't think I really have the voice for it," he said, his stomach tight. "Do you think I sound like a rancher?"

"I think you sound like a fifteen-year-old boy, and nobody would expect you to sound any differently. Consider it, okay, Kurt?" She handed him the audition music, smiling. "I'd love to have you on board."

He returned to Andrea in a daze. "She wants me for Will," he said. "A lead!"

"That would be so much fun!" She grabbed his arm. "I should do Ado Annie, then. We sound good together."

They sang through the song in parts. Kurt knew his range was a little lower this year, and it seemed that he would be able to hit all the notes for Will. He pulled out his phone.

_Wright wants me to play Will in Oklahoma,_  he texted Noah.  _There's a lot of lines, and a comedic duet._

The answer didn't come back immediately, but when it did, Noah's message was clear.  _Do it, Kurt. you'll kill that part. your funny and you can learn those lines no problem._

_Thanks,_  he replied, feeling the warmth inside that came from hearing Noah's approval.  _How are things going there?_

_Auditions today, too. and I have a date tonight._

The warmth went suddenly cold.  _Oh? Same girl from earlier this year?_

_Yeah, chris. she's cool. fucking talented too. i'll report back, pg only._

What should he say?  _Have a good time._  That seemed safe enough.

_You too. get up there and show wright how fucking awesome you are._

It could have been easy to let Noah's date distract him from his audition, but Kurt didn't feel anxious. He looked at all those new faces watching him, and all the familiar ones smiling, and he felt - comfortable. At home.  _This is a safe place to be anybody I want to be,_  he thought.

He bowed, taking off a pretend hat. "Howdy. I'll be auditioning for Will Parker."

* * *

Noah's call came late that night, after Kurt was already in bed. He switched on the light, reaching for their copy of  _Ender's Shadow_  with anticipation _._  "Hi, Noah," he said.

There was a little noise in the background, other voices. "Hey. How'd your audition go?"

"I got it," said Kurt. "I'm playing Will. I kind of can't believe it yet."

"I know what you mean. First time you land a part like that, you keep waiting for somebody to tell you they made a mistake. But you earned it, man." He sounded proud, and Kurt couldn't help smiling.

"Thanks. And you? Any word yet?"

"Well, here's the thing. They cast  _Midsummer_  today, and they gave me Puck. It's not the lead, but it does have a lot of lines. So I might be out of the running for Cyrano. I think I'll go talk to the director tomorrow."

"Congratulations on Puck, anyway," said Kurt. Noah sighed.

"Yeah, it means I have to shave my head and wear this crazy feathered thing... but yeah. It's a great part. It'll be fun, anyway."

Kurt paused, his hand on the first chapter. "And... your date?"

"Oh... yeah. It wasn't much of a date. We just... did stuff. And that's cool, I mean, neither of us are super committed to anything here."

"Is that really any good?" Kurt had to ask. "Stuff... without love?"

"It's pretty damn good," Puck drawled, grinning. Kurt laughed. "I don't know. If I waited around for love, I think I'd be waiting a long time. Guys like me..." He stopped.

"Like you?" Kurt prompted.

"We don't always get what we want. Pretty sure I don't deserve it anyway."

"Noah," he said, "of course you do. You deserve whatever you want. And you shouldn't settle for less."

"Even if that means I have to be alone?"

"You're not alone, you idiot. You have me." Kurt rested his head on his hand. "You ready to read?"

"Yeah, definitely. Ready."

Kurt heard a teasing voice in the background, " _Who's that, Puckerman, your boyfriend?"_

"You wish," Puck replied, good-naturedly. "Fuck off, I need my bedtime story."

Kurt stumbled over the first line, and started over again, reading the entire first chapter. Noah made a pleased humming noise as Kurt put the bookmark in place.

"Perfect," he murmured. "I'm going to bed now, Kurt. G'night."

"Good night, Noah," Kurt whispered. He imagined Noah in his bunk, resting his head on his pillow, and Kurt stroking it, pulling the covers up closer around his neck. Then he turned off his own light, lying on his back, feeling the beating of his own heart.  _Noah,_  he thought, and it was as sharp and painful as it had been a year ago. It didn't seem to be going away. He didn't want it to go away.

* * *

In the middle of rehearsal the next day, Kurt got a triumphant, all-caps text:  _I GOT IT._  He whooped, bringing the group number to a standstill.

"It's Noah," he told Mrs. Wright. "He got the part of Cyrano. And he's Puck in  _Midsummer_."

"Since when is he an actor?" asked Michael, sneering. "And why'd he tell  _you?"_

Kurt realized there was no answer he could give Michael that would satisfy him. He just stood there, staring helplessly.

"Kurt tutored Noah last year in English class," came Mrs. Wright's crisp reply. "Tell him congratulations from all of us."

"I - I will," he said, nodding, and moved to the side of the stage. His hands were shaking. Andrea came over to stand next to him.

"Don't worry about it," she said quietly. "You and Noah can be friends. It's theater. It doesn't have to be like school, remember?"

"I just realized how it would sound, as I said it," he said. "Even his dad assumed we were boyfriends. He's risking a lot being my friend."

"What? No!" Andrea put a firm hand on his arm. "He's your friend because he cares about you. It's  _his_  choice to let those guys bother him. What do you think's more important to him, his status at school or your friendship?"

He stared at Andrea. "I have no idea," he said. "I honestly don't."

She nodded slowly. "I guess you'll have to let him figure it out, then."

Kurt texted back,  _Congratulations! I'm so proud of you._

_Thanks kurt,_  came the reply.  _that means a hell of a lot. gotta call my dad._   _read 2nite?_

_Absolutely,_  Kurt promised. He felt a strange satisfaction at knowing Noah told  _him_  about getting the part even before he told his dad.

* * *

Having a major part was a lot more work than Kurt had expected. It meant he had to be aware of what was going on at all times throughout the whole show. In several of the scenes he was mostly standing there, with a few lines, and reacting to what the other characters said. And then there was the duet he did with Andrea:

[ _http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jVz5K63iYDs_ ](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jVz5K63iYDs)

_With me it's all er nuthin'._  
 _Is it all er nuthin' with you?_  
 _It cain't be "in between"_  
 _It cain't be "now and then"  
_ _No half and half romance will do!_

It was a lot of fun, but he couldn't help feeling the lyrics like a punch in the gut.

"It's what I've been settling for all along, isn't it?" he said glumly to Andrea. "In between. I'm taking what I can get, but... I can't stop wanting more."

"Does he know that?" she asked.

"You know he doesn't. I don't want to risk what we have. It's friendship, but... it's more than that. Or at least it's not like any friendship I've ever had before. I just don't want to freak him out by saying that."

"Noah feels things strongly, just like you do. He's not going to be surprised by anything you say. It seems like it would be better just to tell him the truth."

"An ultimatum? All or nothing?" Kurt shook his head. "I'm not going to get that, and you know it. I just have to accept that he's not going to want more, and... move on."

"It's just that easy, huh?" Now she looked a little angry. "It takes time to build a friendship like the one you have with Noah. Look at the way he trusts you. He doesn't do that with anybody else, does he?"

"No," Kurt admitted. "But I still want more. Does that make me selfish?"

"No." Andrea gave him a half-hug. "It makes you in love."

* * *

She came to Kurt's house that night and showed him a web page on her phone. "Noah's first performance is coming up next week," she said. " _Midsummer._ "

"Yeah, he's been too tired at night to read for the last two days," said Kurt. "It's kind of hard to tell if he's still awake or not until he starts snoring."

Andrea took his hand. "I think we should go to the performance. Surprise him."

Kurt's mind raced at the idea. "Andrea, that's...  _eight hours drive_ from here. My dad would never let me go."

"He would if I were with you," she countered. "You're not going to be able to see  _Cyrano,_  because it's during the week of our performances. You should at least be there for  _Midsummer._  Come on... it couldn't hurt to ask."

Burt, to Kurt's amazement, said yes. "I trust you," he told Andrea. "You're a safe driver and you're not going to let him do anything stupid. But you guys get a motel room and call me right away, once you get there and you know where you're staying."

"I promise," said Andrea. "Not a word to Noah, okay?"

Kurt wasn't at all sure that was a good idea. "I don't think he likes surprises very much."

"You don't want to throw him off his game, either. If he's worried about you being in the audience, he won't be at his best. This is the way. We'll plan to arrive Saturday afternoon, see the show at night, stay over and leave the next day. We'll only miss one rehearsal. And I get to road trip with my friend Kurt, who's overdue for some adventure."

Somehow Kurt managed not to say anything to Noah on the phone over the next week. Their reading had been curtailed because of Noah's night rehearsals, but he still talked to him almost every day, even if just for a few minutes.

"What do you think you guys will do after the show next weekend?" Kurt asked, trying to sound casual.

"There's a party. Not a super fun one, because no alcohol, but it'll be okay."

"The girl you've been dating... Chris, right? Will she be there?"

"Oh, she's in the show too. And we're not dating. She's just fun."

"What's she playing?"

There was a silence. "Um, one of the fairies. Sorry, Kurt, I should go. Talk to you later."

Kurt stared at his phone. "He's hiding something," he said to Andrea.

"Probably," she agreed. "You going to call him on it, or let him get away with it?"

"No... I mean, Noah doesn't lie to me."

She laughed. "Of course he does, Kurt. We lie to everybody. You're lying to him every day. I'm sure he has plenty to hide. He's scared about what the kids at school will think of him for being friends with you. What do you think he feels about you, judging him for things he's ashamed of enough to hide?"

Kurt felt sickened. "I thought... he trusts me. He said so."

"I know. He does. But you can't be honest all the time about everything. It's not possible, and certainly doesn't sound like Noah. Can't you give him a little space to figure things out, let him be imperfect, without assuming that means he doesn't like you?"

Kurt sat with this question all the next day, letting it distract him from his rehearsal, to the point that Michael called out in annoyance, "Get your head out of your ass, Kurt."

"Sorry," Kurt muttered. As soon as the scene was over, he went out to the hallway, dialing Noah's number.

"Kurt?" He sounded surprised. "Everything okay? I'm in the middle of rehearsal."

"I am, too. I had to ask you something." He took a deep breath. "Do you trust me?"

"Do I... yeah, Kurt. Of course. I trust you."

"Because I can tell you're hiding something from me, and I just wanted you to know... whatever it is, you can tell me. I don't want there to be secrets between us."

"Really." Noah sounded skeptical. "You want to know everything? Because I'm pretty sure you asked me to keep it PG."

"Oh. Well - I mean..."

"Because my life's not very PG, Kurt. You don't have to want to hear it all, but don't ask if you don't want to know."

"Hey, mine's not particularly PG sometimes either," Kurt snapped. "I just figured you didn't need to hear the details."

Noah laughed, short and bitter. "Sometimes the details really matter." He paused. "I  _like_  what we have. Don't you?"

"Yes," Kurt agreed, sighing. "Yes. Of course I do. I... I just don't want to feel like you have to hide things from me because you're scared of what I'll think. I care about you no matter what."

"Yeah? What if I told you I was in love with somebody and I've been hiding it from you for months?"

Kurt's heart stopped for a moment. He choked out, "I guess... I would feel bad that you couldn't tell me before, but... I would feel glad, too, that you told me, at last?"

"Yeah? You wouldn't hate me?"

"Noah," Kurt said. "No. I won't ever hate you."

"That's a big promise, Kurt. I can think of a lot of reasons why you might hate me. I'm a big fucking coward, for one. I can't even talk to you in front of my so-called friends, because I'm afraid what they'll say about  _me_. That's pathetic."

"Yeah, a little," Kurt admitted. "But you kind of gave me the choice a year ago to accept that, or not. And I did."

Noah sighed loudly. "God, that  _sucks._ "

"I can't disagree. But... I care about you, and I've always been willing to take what you give me, and not ask for more. Now, I'm asking for more."

"What... are you asking for?" Noah sounded a little scared.

"More honesty."

"And what if I can't do that, Kurt?" he snapped.

"I guess I'll keep waiting, then, until you can."

There was a pause. "I wouldn't blame you if you gave up waiting," said Noah.

"I don't think that's likely, Noah. And I knew it was a risk to ask for more, but... that's what I want. I think it's worth the risk."

"Yeah. That's really brave of you." Noah's voice was cold. "You're just reminding me even more of what a coward I am."

Kurt swallowed. "I don't care. You can hate yourself all you want, but  _I'm_  not going to hate you. Break a leg tonight." He disconnected before Noah could hear the tears in his voice.

Andrea stood a few feet away. "The show must go on, Kurt." she said quietly.

"He's in love with somebody else," he said, barely managing to articulate the words. "He said he's been in love with somebody for months and he... he didn't want to tell me."

"That's because he didn't want to hurt you, Kurt." She held out a hand, and after a moment, he took it. "He does care about you."

"I know. That kind of makes it worse." He let her hug him before returning to rehearsal. Michael was shooting him dirty looks.

"You ready to focus?" he asked Kurt. Kurt stared back at him.

"I'm here to do this show," he said. "That's it."

* * *

"Can you get me a plastic bag, for trash? And the bottles of water from the fridge." Andrea backed out of her car, shaking her hair out of her face. "I think we're ready. Go use the bathroom."

"Yes, mom," Kurt grinned. "I'll let my dad know we're heading out."

It was early enough in the morning that the streetlights were still on, and Burt would be asleep for a few more hours before he had to get up and open the garage. Kurt touched his dad's shoulder. "Dad?"

"Hey," he said sleepily. "You guys drive safe, okay? If you get tired, just pull over. Call me when you get there."

"I will." He kissed his cheek. "Thank you."

"Tell Noah I'm sorry I couldn't come see him myself. Next time, I hope."

That made Kurt choke up a little, but he nodded. "I'll tell him."

He handed Andrea the bottles of water and settled into the passenger seat, hooking his iPod up to the cable dangling from the dash. She smiled at him. "Ready?"

"Ready." He clenched his own knees in anticipation.

They drove until long after the sun came up, across Ohio and into Pennsylvania. The highway cutting through the mountain blended with the sunrise and the music and provided a backdrop for Kurt's building excitement. By the time they hit the New York border, he was about ready to jump out of his own skin.

"It's still a surprise, right?" Andrea asked, passing the car on her right. "You haven't spilled the beans about our trip?"

"No. I haven't told him." Kurt felt his phone in his pocket. "We haven't talked since that phone call during rehearsal. He's busy; I didn't want to bother him."

"You think he's going to be pissed off when we show up without warning."

"I think he's got something he's hiding, and when we show up, we're going to put him in a position where he has to tell the truth. Either it'll be obvious, or impossible to keep hiding. Like... what if he didn't actually get the lead in Cyrano? What if he's as much of a troublemaker at his camp as he is at home, and he's just been faking this all along? What if he and this Chris girl are serious - or maybe he's been leading Chris on, too, and there's someone else?"

"Kurt!" She put a hand on top of his. "Relax. You're taking him at face value, right? Whatever he chooses to show you. You've got to trust that, until he's ready to tell you more. And remember he still cares about you." She squeezed his hand. "And when he sees you in the auditorium, it's going to blow his mind."

They arrived around dinner time and stopped for something to eat before checking into their motel. Kurt sent Noah a  _Break a leg_  text as he was getting changed.

"Do you think I could stop and get him some flowers? Or would that be really, really gay?"

She laughed. "It might not exactly send the  _I'm okay being just friends_  message, if that's what you're going for."

He sighed. "Don't they have any flowers that mean  _I'm in love with you, but I'm okay that you're straight?"_

"I think that's going to have to be something you say to his face," she said, getting back into the car, "and see what he does."

Kurt tried to imagine that all the way across Long Island to Huntington, where the theater camp was located. He didn't really think Noah would be all that surprised to hear him say it. He just didn't know how it would change their friendship. Would Noah start censoring himself more? Would he be afraid to touch Kurt if he knew how he felt? Sit on the couch with him? Share his feelings? Kurt didn't want to stop doing any of that.

"Do you think I should?" he asked Andrea. She shrugged.

"You said you wanted more honesty. Isn't this part of that deal?"

They parked and got out of the car, heading toward the lovely amphitheater to pick up their tickets. Andrea smiled at the woman at the box office. "We're friends of Noah's."

"Noah? Oh - Puck. Cool. You want me to let him know you're here?"

"It's kind of a surprise," Kurt said. She beamed at him. It made him courageous enough to ask another question. "Do you know which one is Chris?"

"He's playing Oberon, so I'm guessing he's in makeup. Why? Are you a friend of his, too?"

"No, not - not a boy Chris. A girl. Christina? Christine?"

The woman took a program and glanced through it, confused. "No, the only Chris in this show is a boy. Unless you mean Katie? She's Titania."

"Never mind." They moved down the center aisle in the auditorium. Kurt shook his head. "He lied to me again. Her name's not Chris, or she's not in the show."

"All will become clear, when we next our heroes see," she murmured, with a placating hand. "Just enjoy it, all right?"

The performance began with Hermia and Egeus arguing about not being able to marry Hermia's love. Right away, the caliber of talent was top notch; Kurt was impressed by all of the actors. They had rich costumes, though in the usual style of Shakespeare, the sets themselves were minimal.

Then the scene switched to the woods, where Oberon and his fairies waited. The stage seemed full of small woodland creatures, climbing in and out of trees and knotholes, in their ephemeral costumes.

"How now, spirit!" called a familiar voice. "Whither wander you?"

Kurt's eyes shot up to the top of the stage, where Noah as Puck was climbing down a trellis to the floor. He was outrageously painted and dressed in skin-tight leotards and glitter, and his hair had been shaved into a mohawk and extended to a high, multicolored crest. He smiled brilliantly. Kurt was captivated.

"Farewell, thou lob of spirits; I'll be gone:  
Our queen and all our elves come here anon," said the fairy he was talking to.

"The king doth keep his revels here to-night:" said Puck,  
"Take heed the queen come not within his sight;  
For Oberon is passing fell and wrath,  
Because that she as her attendant hath  
A lovely boy, stolen from an Indian king;  
She never had so sweet a changeling;  
And jealous Oberon would have the child  
Knight of his train, to trace the forests wild;  
But she perforce withholds the loved boy,  
Crowns him with flowers and makes him all her joy:  
And now they never meet in grove or green,  
By fountain clear, or spangled starlight sheen,  
But, they do square, that all their elves for fear  
Creep into acorn-cups and hide them there."

His body movements and his manner subtly suggested  _other than human,_  but mostly Puck was just lovely to look on. His language, spun forth across the stage, was rich and expressive, and he moved gracefully and with strength.

"Kurt, you're drooling," Andrea whispered, and he wiped his own chin in embarrassment.

Oberon and Titania, the king and queen of faerie, entered from either side of the stage. Puck knelt beside them and listened to their words as they argued, but when Titiania left, he came to sit before his king. Oberon smiled fondly down on Puck, leaning down to place a kiss on his lips. Kurt bristled. It wasn't like he never had to do the same on the stage; he had to kiss Andrea more than once in  _Oklahoma._  But it wasn't quite like  _this._

The king sent Puck off in search of the love-in-idleness flower, and he scampered away offstage. Kurt could barely breathe long enough to focus on the rest of the play again, which was all about the mistaken connections between the humans and the faerie creatures.

Puck's monologue about Titania falling in love with Bottom was horrible and hilarious at the same time. It was no different from Noah and his football friends making a dig about  _the two fags._  Of course it wasn't personal, but in that moment, it really, really felt like it was. Puck teased and taunted from every place on the stage:

"Thou coward, art thou bragging to the stars,  
Telling the bushes that thou look'st for wars,  
And wilt not come? Come, recreant; come, thou child;  
I'll whip thee with a rod: he is defiled  
That draws a sword on thee."

Puck came around to each of the mixed-up couples and sprinkled juice into their eyes, making them realize who they actually loved. That was a little bit disturbing, too, to think that something could so quickly change someone's emotions.  _We were drunk, officer,_  Kurt thought.  _Beer goggles, thou art so cruel._

The last one on the stage was Puck. He implored the audience with gentle, spangled eyes:

<http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N-glqkxVeTw>

"If we shadows have offended,  
Think but this, and all is mended,  
That you have but slumber'd here  
While these visions did appear.  
And this weak and idle theme,  
No more yielding but a dream,  
Gentles, do not reprehend:  
if you pardon, we will mend:  
And, as I am an honest Puck,  
If we have unearned luck  
Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue,  
We will make amends ere long;  
Else the Puck a liar call;  
So, good night unto you all.  
Give me your hands, if we be friends,  
And Robin shall restore amends."

Kurt rose to his feet with the rest of the audience as the lights went down on Puck's bow. They cheered and clapped as the cast returned, one at a time, for applause. When it was Noah's turn, Andrea gave a loud whistle, and he looked, startled - and saw Kurt, smiling at him.

Noah took a step back, staggering, and the expression on his face under his makeup was completely flabbergasted. Then he recovered, and smiled back brilliantly, waving at them and throwing a kiss to the audience before returning to line of cast members. They gave one last unison bow, then recognized Oberon and Titania, who bowed as well.

Kurt stared at the boy playing Oberon. He was slender and pretty, and moved with style. Everything about him screamed  _gay._  Kurt felt his smile slipping away.  _Chris._

_I have a date with someone I met at theater camp,_  Noah had said.  _Someone._  Not  _a girl,_ just  _someone._  And:  _What if I told you I've been in love with someone for months?_

"Oh, my god," Kurt said. Andrea looked at him, concerned. He stepped down the aisle, across the legs of the people next to them. "I'm sorry; I have to -"

"Kurt!" Andrea called after him, but he fled to the lobby, out through the double doors and down the steps to the street. There was a bench next to the street; he sat there, willing his heart to stop pounding.  _Somebody. Noah's in love with somebody._

"I can't believe you're here," he heard, and when he looked up, Noah -  _Puck -_  was standing there next to him, in all his glitter and gauze. "And I can't believe you made me come out onto the street like this."

"I didn't make you do anything," Kurt said stiffly, and Noah laughed.

"Yeah, like you guys drive all the way out here to see my show, and I'm  _not_  going to follow you around." He touched Kurt's shoulder. "Thank you."

"Road trip," Kurt mumbled. "It was fun. And the show - you were amazing."

"It was a great part," Noah agreed. "And I think everybody's going to call me Puck until the end of time. I'm really looking forward to Cyrano, though."

"Yeah, we can't come to that one... it ends in the middle of our performance run. I was really disappointed. I know that part meant a lot to you."

"There'll be other parts. Kurt..." Noah crouched down on the sidewalk in front of Kurt, so he was looking up at him. "What's going on?"

Kurt took a shaky breath. "You told me... Chris. The girl you were seeing. She was in the show with you. Only... only there is no Chris in the show. No girls, anyway."

Noah nodded slowly, making the feathers on his headdress dance. He looked down at the sidewalk. "Yeah. I lied about that. I'm sorry."

"What  _exactly_  did you lie about, Noah?" Kurt whispered in confusion. "I'm starting to make some assumptions here that don't feel very good."

"Chris." Noah straightened his shoulders and looked back at Kurt, his face serious. " _He_  was in the show with me. He played Oberon. He lives in Michigan; we've been seeing each other on and off for two years."

Kurt tried to take this as an ordinary piece of information, and not to let the hurt show on his face. He nodded. "You said it wasn't serious. Was that true?"

"Yes.  _Yes,_ Kurt, it wasn't. We were just hooking up. He's not closeted at his school, but I... I've never told anybody at McKinley about me. Ever. And I don't plan to."

Kurt nodded again, fighting through the pain. "Okay. And what you said on the phone... about being in love with somebody. That's not... not him, then? It's somebody else?"

Noah reached out and gripped Kurt's arm, so hard it was almost painful. "It's not him. In fact, I told him... we can't do that anymore. I wasn't going to hang out with him, not if I wanted... to make this work."

"To make this work," Kurt repeated.  _It's me,_  he realized, with drenching shock.  _He's talking about me._ But he refused to give in to the temptation Noah was presenting to him. There were too many elements he couldn't trust. "To make  _what_  work, Noah? What could you possibly be referring to here? Because all I can see are a pack of lies between two people I thought were friends.  _Best_  friends."

Noah's face went hard behind the graceful makeup. "Okay, Kurt. Let's talk about the lies. Tell me you've been completely honest with me. I'm not the only one who's in love here, am I?" He gripped him harder. " _Tell me."_

"Okay!" cried Kurt. He glared at Noah. "Yes, I'm in love with you. Yes, every day, I've had to accept that I was never going to have what I want. I had to be okay with what you were able to give me. And I  _am,_  Noah. How does that change anything between us?"

"You're right. It doesn't change  _anything."_  Noah shook his head, baring his teeth. It made him look like some exotic wild animal. "You, loving me... there's no way I can ever deserve that. Because I'm the coward who's going to wear the costume of the straight jock all my life. No matter what I might - feel about you, or want with you... I'm never going to be able to give it to you." He let Kurt's arm go with a little push. "All I can be is this. The fake. The loser who's too scared to stand up for what he wants. And you... you deserve more than this."

He stood, taking a few steps back as he held up his hands. "This... what we had... that was real. It was the best thing I ever had, with anyone. And I can't let my screwed up self mess that up."

"Noah," Kurt said, but he shook his head.

"It's Puck now. And you'd better stay away from me. Just... stay out of my way, all right? Go home, Kurt, and... don't call me anymore."

He turned around and ran back into the building, pushing past Andrea in the doorway. Kurt watched him go in shock. She hurried down the steps and touched his arm cautiously.

"Kurt...?"

"I'm done here," Kurt said in a monotone. "We should go back to the motel. Tomorrow we'll drive home."

She took his hand and led him back to the car without another word. When they got back to the motel, she took off his blazer and hung it on the door, and his shoes, and opened her arms.

He cried on her for what seemed like hours, using up half a boxful of tissues. Between sobs, he explained his friendship with Noah, the days reading, the moment in the basement of the Dayton opera house, the lies. And Chris.

"I think I have to talk to him," Kurt said, when his tears had finally stopped. "To Chris. He's the only other one who can give me some perspective on this. Noah -  _Puck_  - he's giving up on me... on us. I need to know if that's really what's going to happen, or if there might be another way."

"Kurt... it seems pretty clear Noah's not going to be able to provide you with a real relationship any time soon, no matter what he feels." Andrea stroked his hair. "Do you think you need more information than that?"

"Chris has known Noah for at least two years. There's some reason he made the effort to come down to Lima to see him, after being away from him for so long." He wiped his eyes for the fiftieth time. "Do you think I'm an idiot?"

"Maybe," Andrea shrugged. "Love isn't all that rational, though. I think you have to go with your gut. Try not to think too much with your dick, though."

"Andrea!" he moaned. "We haven't done  _anything._  It's not at all about that." He tried to explain. "He's with me, all the time, in everything I do. Every day, all I can do is wait until we can be together again. All the good things I have in my life, I want to share them with him. I want to give him... everything."

She stared at him with wide eyes. "Yeah, like  _that's_  not going to scare him away."

"Why do you think I haven't said anything? I know I'm only a kid, and so is he. He doesn't need to hear declarations of undying love."

She shook her head. "Kurt... yeah. I really think he does. He needs to know what he's actually giving up here, by walking away from you."

* * *

The next morning, Kurt waited in the car while Andrea went into the dorm where the student performers lived. He didn't want to risk running into Noah.  _Puck,_  he reminded himself bitterly.  _He can reinvent himself, too._

He turned at the knock on the window. Andrea was standing there with Chris. He looked significantly diminished without his costume on, but no less pretty. Kurt realized,  _he looks like me._

"Go sit in the front seat," she gestured to Chris, and he went around to the other side. She turned to Kurt. "Text me if you need anything. I'll wait in the lobby."

Chris sat awkwardly behind the wheel, turned toward Kurt, his face wary. "I'm really not sure what you're looking for, here," he said.

"Answers," Kurt said, sighing. "Noah... he's been my friend. He's hurting. I want to know more about what he's been going through so I can help him in any way I can."

Chris shook his head regretfully. "That boy's just an ordinary closet case. Seen 'em all my life. He might play a convincing straight boy, but he wants my ass just as much as any other queer does. And until he comes to terms with that, that's all he's ever going to have."

"But we..." Kurt paused, gathering his thoughts. "Last summer, when Noah had detention... we became friends. Just outside of school. He came to my house and I tutored him in English. It was fun, for both of us, but he made it clear he couldn't give up his school persona. I accepted that about him. And... I fell in love with him, but I  _never_  asked him for more."

Chris grinned to himself. "Yeah. Did he ever tell you  _why_  he had summer detention?"

"He flunked eighth grade Lit & Comp," Kurt replied, but Chris shook his head.

"Cover story. And may have been true, but he could have studied on his own, without the suspension." He frowned. "Noah beat up a kid at camp."

"He  _what?"_  Kurt gasped. "At this camp?"

"His seventh grade year, we were just starting to get friendly. I mean, there was clearly a spark between us, but Noah was fighting it all the way. One of the eighth graders noticed, and he started making fun of Noah. It wasn't kind or good-natured, just mean. Noah didn't respond well."

Kurt leaned in, fascinated despite himself. "Did he hit him? What happened?"

"Noah started by reestablishing control. He bullied him at meals, waited for him around corners. Every time he was alone, Noah was there, not doing anything, just being intimidating. Eventually the kid had kind of a breakdown. His parents were brought in, and the camp sided against Noah. Said he couldn't come back until he'd provided restitution."

"That's awful," said Kurt, "in so many ways." He felt sick.

"Yeah, but that's Noah. He's kind of an asshole, most of the time. He's arrogant and judgmental and belligerent." Chris' blue eyes zeroed in on Kurt. "Except, apparently with you."

"No." Kurt smiled faintly. "He was always good to me, at least in private. And he told me he'd never let anybody hurt me."

Chris nodded. He huffed, shaking his head. "He told me about you. About how much you meant to him. What you'd done for him, last summer, and all year. You've never judged him for treating you one way at school and another way in private, and he's so ashamed of himself for that." He eyed Kurt. "Guess I should be angry at you for taking him away from me, but... I'm glad it's not a girl, at least."

"But I don't get him either," Kurt murmured. "He told me not to call him."

Chris sighed. "This is so fucked up." He opened the door and climbed out of the car. "I'm sorry, Kurt. I hope he gets his act together, because you seem like a really nice guy."

"But you're not holding your breath," Kurt added. Chris hesitated, then shook his head.

"It take a lot for closet cases to grow up and get over themselves. You're just going to have to wait until he gives up on his ego and comes back to you."

"Noah, give up on his ego? Not likely." Kurt gave him a grin, and Chris laughed.

"You're okay, Kurt. Thanks for coming up to see our show."

"Good luck with Cyrano," Kurt said. "I'm sure it'll be amazing."

Chris slammed the door and headed back inside. A few minutes later, Andrea returned, holding two cups of steaming hot coffee with plenty of cream.

"Time to hit the road," she said. "Are you sorry we came?"

Kurt shook his head, holding his coffee. "All this... it's better that it came out now. I needed to know what was really going on. Now... I can move on."

He sat with his broken heart the whole way home, feeling its irregular beat inside his chest, like the sound of the tires on the pavement. Andrea may have played music, but he didn't hear any of it. All he could hear were Noah's words,  _Just stay out of my way, all right? Go home, Kurt, and don't call me anymore._

* * *

Kurt let himself be distracted by rehearsals for the rest of the summer. He went to bed early every night and made sure his phone was turned off, so even if Noah chose to call him, he wouldn't hear it. His performance in  _Oklahoma_  didn't suffer any; he sang just as loud and danced just as hard as he would if he were feeling like himself.

But he really didn't. Something was missing, a part of him that he couldn't deny made him happier, more whole. He really hoped he might be able to find it again somewhere else, even if it wasn't with Noah.

Andrea brought him flowers on opening night. It made Kurt cry, and he hugged her tightly.

"I'm going to miss you next year," he told her.

"Columbus isn't very far at all," she promised. "I'll come home for holidays, and I'll email you. Don't worry."

They had an excellent run of performances, but it wasn't until the following Friday that Kurt felt nervous. He was backstage going through vocal warmups when he overheard the word  _Noah._

"He's out there, in the audience," said Harriet. "Did you hear what he did to his hair?"

"Noah can't be here," Kurt said, interrupting their conversation. "He's supposed to play Cyrano tonight."

"Well, that's definitely him out there," Harriet shrugged. "You think he would at least come backstage and say hello."

Kurt knew why he hadn't, but he resolved not to let the evening pass without at least attempting to communicate with him. He didn't care how stupid it was. He  _missed_  him.

Kurt managed to keep his head in the show, delivering each line and coming in on cue. His duet with Andrea was funny and sweet, and they got plenty of applause. When they came out on stage at the end for the final curtain call, they turned the house lights up. Kurt scanned the audience, but didn't see Noah anywhere.

"He's not here," he said to Andrea, crossing the stage to stand beside her. She hugged him.

"Maybe he left early. He was just here to see you, anyway. You know it."

It was likely true; musicals didn't hold much interest for Noah, unless he was acting in them. Still, it was a disappointment. Maybe he hadn't really been there at all.

But later, in the midst of the cast party, Kurt received a text.  _You were awesome. was it fun?_

_Definitely,_  Kurt replied, his fingers trembling.  _I'm so glad you came. What happened with Cyrano? Where are you?_

_Thats what understudies are for. heading back. long drive, as I'm sure you remember._

Kurt hovered his fingers over the keys to spell out  _I miss you,_  but he decided he couldn't do it. Instead he said,  _Be safe. I'm thinking of you._

_Yeah. me too._

* * *

[ _http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IKg-jErcRC4_ ](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IKg-jErcRC4)

_Don't wanna feel you in my heart_   
_Don't wanna see you in my dreams anymore_   
_Don't need to hear you're doing fine_   
_Baby I'm sure_

_Don't wanna call you on the phone_   
_Don't wanna hear you being kind to me_   
_I'll either make it or I won't_   
_Baby we'll see_

_I never meant to be your fool_   
_What can I do? I know it hurts you too_   
_I wasn't careful at the start_   
_Me with my dreams, you with your change of heart_

_Don't wanna look into your eyes_   
_Don't wanna see the way it might have been_   
_Well, you think I can't see gentle lies_   
_But baby I can_

_Don't wanna spend another night_   
_Alone and swearing I will take control_   
_I'm working overtime to hide_   
_What you already know_

_\- Cheryl Wheeler, "Don't Wanna"_


	5. Fall 2009

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the dialogue in this chapter (and in future chapters) is quoted directly from the show, to provide continuity. No plagiarism is intended. Oh, the angst. These boys rip at my heart.

**Fall 2009**

That was it from Noah for the rest of the summer.

Kurt helped Andrea pack up for school, her little subset of things that she would need in her dorm room at State. He made sure to include one of the cast pictures from  _Grease_  along with one from  _Oklahoma._  She grinned at him, looking at the two photos.

"You've grown up a lot, Kurt." She pointed at him in his punk kid makeup. "Taller... slimmer... next year I bet you'll grow two inches. You going to do choir in the fall?"

"It's choir or French, and I'd rather do that. Ryerson's not going to teach me anything I don't already know. I've been considering asking my dad for acting lessons for Christmas. We really don't have the money, but I think I could do better, if I could get some help." He thought of Noah's offer last year to help him, but he didn't think that would be on the table anymore.

Andrea closed the box, taping it shut. "I'm auditioning for the women's ensemble, and I'll try out for the fall musical, once it's announced. Will you come see me?"

"Of course I will." He reached over the box and hugged her. "And you'll have to keep me informed about how things are going with you and Noah."

"Nowhere," he sighed. "He texted me last week, and that was it. I don't really expect them to go anywhere else."

Burt asked about Noah, too. He'd seen the change in Kurt before and after their trip to New York, and no matter how much Kurt had concealed from his dad about his feelings, Burt knew Noah was Kurt's friend - and now he wasn't around anymore.

"You guys had a fight, huh," Burt said over dinner, the night before school began.

"A bad one," agreed Kurt. "I don't think we'll be studying together this year. He told me to leave him alone."

"He might still come around. He seems pretty volatile. But I also think he liked being over here. I mean, I don't think he was faking any of that."

It made Kurt hurt inside to think of Noah, being fake with him. He shook his head. "No. I don't think he was."

"Yeah. So... sometimes it just takes teenage boys a while to get over being jerks, okay? Speaking as a former teenage boy." Burt smiled gently at him.

Kurt laid out his blue Marc Jacobs coat and matching slacks for the first day of school, texted Mercedes and Tina, did his moisturizing routine and went to sleep, hoping that sophomore year would start out good, even without Noah.

* * *

But Noah was one of the first people Kurt saw on the school grounds, standing with several of his football player friends by the flagpole. He had a snide grin on his face, and he was wearing his red junior varsity letterman jacket. The hair he'd shaved to wear his Puck costume was sculpted into a mohawk. The other boys were mostly standing around, waiting for his lead.

"There's a tradition, Hummel," Noah explained in a conversational tone, "where the jocks throw the biggest losers into the dumpster at the beginning of every day. It's like a good luck charm. You want to be our good luck charm?"

"Not particularly," said Kurt, trying to turn away, but the rest of the guys hemmed him in.

"You might as well give in now," said Rick, smirking. "You're going to cave eventually."

"Making some new friends, Kurt?" called Mr. Schuester, the Spanish teacher, as he approached the group by the dumpster. Kurt just stared at him. It was impossible that he didn't notice what was going on.

"He sure is, Mr. Schue," said Noah.

"Hey, Finn, you still owe me that report on  _durante el verano,"_  Schue called, clapping him on the back.

"What's that?" said Finn, looking puzzled.

"What you did over the summer." Schue backed away, leaving Kurt to the boys. Noah snapped his fingers.

"It's hammer time," he said.

"Wait," Kurt protested, as one boy took his legs and the other grabbed under his arms. "This is Marc Jacobs' new collection!"

"Wait," Finn echoed, and the boys put him down. Kurt shoved his messenger bag at Noah, glaring at him, and took off his blazer. Finn draped it over his arm, then nodded. "Okay."

It wasn't the smell that the dumpster left on his clothes, though that was bad enough, or the stains, or even his bruised pride. It was the expression on Noah's face as he heaved him in. Like he didn't even remember who was inside Kurt's body.

When Kurt finally managed to climb back out, he found his blue blazer neatly folded on the back of the bench.  _Courtesy Finn Hudson._  Maybe he would be worth getting to know.

"So," Mercedes said, hugging him. She made a little  _ew_  face when she smelled him, but she was too polite to say anything. "Are you going to audition?"

"Audition for what?"

She laughed. "You've been under a rock? Mr. Schuester is hosting auditions for a new Glee Club. He's calling it New Directions."

" _Nude erections?"_  Kurt hissed, and Tina cracked up. "Oh my god, that man has worse taste than I thought, and that's not an easy feat when you look at his wardrobe. Show me where I sign up."

He chose  _Mr. Cellophane_  as his audition number, because it was familiar and showed off his vocal range. But the whole time he was singing, he could scarcely muster up enough enthusiasm to hold the fermatas. All he could see was Noah, walking by him in the hallway that morning, and letting his eyes slide off him, like he was nothing.

_I tell ya_  
 _Cellophane_  
 _Mister Cellophane_  
 _Shoulda been my name_  
 _Mister Cellophane_  
 _'Cause you can look right through me_  
 _Walk right by me  
_ _And never know I'm there..._

Tina performed a Katy Perry song that was terrible, but Mercedes doing RESPECT would always command his attention. Then Rachel Berry sang  _On My Own._

_And I know it's only in my mind_  
 _That I'm talking to myself and not to him_  
 _And although I know that he is blind_  
 _Still I say, there's a way for us_   


_I love him_  
 _But when the night is over_  
 _He is gone_  
 _The river's just a river_  
 _Without him_  
 _The world around me changes_  
 _The trees are bare and everywhere  
_ _The streets are full of strangers_

_I love him_  
 _But every day I'm learning_  
 _All my life_  
 _I've only been pretending_  
 _Without me_  
 _His world would go on turning_  
 _A world that's full of happiness  
_ _That I have never known_

Kurt found himself crying by the end. He wiped away the tears and watched Rachel leave the stage, every bit the confident performer.

"She thinks she's all that and a bag of chips," Mercedes grumbled.

_Noah thought that about himself, too_ , thought Kurt.  _And it was_ _one of the things that made him great._

But the next day in the lunch line, Kurt heard two football players describing something that had gone on in the boys' locker room that made him grimace in disgust.

"So Mr. Schue, the Spanish teacher, he's starting this Glee club shit, right? And he came to talk to us after practice to see if he could get some guys. And Puck -"

"Who?"

" _Puck,_  man, Noah  _Puck_ erman? Fuck, don't you know anything? So Puck comes up and says, 'I can sing.'"

"Isn't he, like, a good singer? He plays the guitar or some shit."

"Yeah, so he comes up to sing, and he just lets rip this humungo bad boy fart. It was fucking  _golden,_  man. And the Coach told him to take a lap, but..."

Kurt took his tray back to the table where Mercedes and Tina were sitting with Artie, the new guy in the wheelchair. "Noah's messing with Mr. Schue," he sighed. "I wish he would just get over himself already. Not that I really want Noah in Glee with us, but we  _really_  need some more guys."

"I heard Mr. Schue found somebody," Artie said, raising his eyebrows. "Now he's trying to convince him to sing with us."

Sure enough, at the next Glee rehearsal, Noah's tall friend Finn showed up. Kurt had to admit he sounded pretty good. Rachel was on him like a cat in heat, strutting around him on the stage.

"So why'd you decide to join Glee?" he asked Finn during a break. Finn grimaced apologetically.

"I'm working out a suspension. It was either this or six weeks after school."

"You should get Noah to come, too. He has a good voice."

Now Finn gave him a funny look. "I think he wants people to call him Puck now. Short for Puckerman, I guess?"

"It's a character from... never mind. Just make sure to tell him Kurt said he'd be welcome."

He sauntered away, back to Tina, who was staring at him. "What are you doing talking to Finn Hudson? He's the quarterback of the f-football team. He could c-crush you."

"He could," Kurt acknowledged. "But I don't know, Tina. He's nice. And I don't think he's going to want to be here all by himself. He needs a buddy in Glee."

It became even more apparent how much help they were going to need when they went to see their competition perform. Carmel High's Vocal Adrenaline were incredible powerhouses, tight and athletic and talented. Kurt watched them with a sinking heart.

When they got back to the school and Finn climbed off the bus, though, Noah -  _Puck_  - was there waiting for him, with four friends bearing paintball guns.

"You lied to me," he accused, which made Kurt roll his eyes.  _Really, Noah? I don't think you get to play that card._  But they pinned Finn up against the wall and covered him with paintball pellets anyway.

The final card fell when Mr. Schue came to them and told them he was going to be a father, and he couldn't coach Glee club after all. They had no idea what to do once he walked out.

Finn and Artie didn't even show up to the next day's rehearsal, which began with Rachel arguing with the rest of them about who should choreograph their music. It was getting heated when Finn wheeled Artie in.

"Original cologne," Kurt said, shielding his nose. "Eau de portapotty?"

"Sorry; thanks to Noah Puckerman, Artie just spent a couple hours in the john." Finn looked pissed, but not as pissed as Kurt was.

"What the hell," he muttered. "He owes me one. And I know just how to collect."

While the others were talking about Finn's idea for a new song, Kurt texted Noah.  _You threw my friend in the port-a-john today. Really classy._

_Fuck u,_  was the only reply.

_So now you owe me. I have plenty of dirt on you that would be, shall we say, awkward if it came out._

A long pause.  _You would never out me._

_No, you're right. But I could put some of the choicest theater evidence online and let people draw their own conclusions._

_What do you want me to do?_

Kurt grinned triumphantly.  _Help me choreograph this Glee number._

_WTF kurt? I know practically nothing about choreography. Im only an okay dancer._

_You know more than all the rest of us, except maybe Rachel. And you know stage blocking, what looks good... all the tricks. Noah, we need you._

_And what do I get?_  came the reply.

Kurt bit his lip, hoping his plan didn't backfire.  _Anything you want. Anything. Just tell me, and you've got it._

_Fine,_  said Noah.  _meet you at your house after school._

Kurt tucked his phone away and went to stand beside Rachel. "You busy after school today?"

Rachel peered at him. "I can find time for a worthy cause. What's the problem?"

"I found us some help for the choreography. He's coming to my house after school. Would you come with me? I... could use your help."

Kurt was sure he and Noah could do all the choreography themselves thankyouverymuch, but he also knew Rachel needed to feel needed. He made some excuse to Mercedes and Tina about working on a project, and he and Rachel walked back to his house.

"I have some great ideas about the arrangement," she began, but Kurt cut her off.

"Can it. You're not the only one with ideas here. Are you ready to listen to what others might have to offer, no matter who they are? To  _really_  work together? Because otherwise you can just head home now."

Rachel was taken aback, but she nodded, following him through the cut-through in Mr. Price's yard. She was even more startled to see Noah sitting on Kurt's front step.

"'Sup, Berry," said Noah.

"What is  _he_  doing here?" she whispered furiously. "Need I remind you of all the chaos he caused after school with Finn and the paintball guns?"

"That's not my problem," said Kurt, unlocking his door. "Finn can stick up for himself. We're here to choreograph this scene, and that's it."

He took them down to the basement, moving his desk chair out of the way, then found the song Finn had chosen on his iPod. It might be an eighties power ballad with meaningless lyrics, but it was catchy and it had heart. Noah raised an eyebrow when he heard it.

"What do you want me to do with  _this?"_  he sneered.

"Make the audience see that we've got what nobody else has," Kurt told him.

Rachel sat and watched them while Kurt proposed a few ideas, but soon Noah was scowling and stepping in, bringing them closer together. "Berry," he said, "front and center. You got a guitar player?"

"Artie," she nodded, startled.

"Not while Finn is singing." He put a hand to his forehead with a pained look. "Finn. Fuck me, what are you  _doing?_ "

"Finn is very talented," she said hotly. Noah laughed.

"Talented, maybe. But trust me, I've known Hudson for a long time, and he's never sung on a stage or danced or done  _anything_  like this in his life. He's going to crash and burn without a lot of help. You up for that, Berry?"

She nodded, straightening her shoulders. "I'll do whatever it takes to get us to Sectionals."

"Okay." Noah closed his eyes and thought for a moment. "All right. There are only five of you, right? So you're going to have to play up the underdog kid-next-door image. T-shirts and cuffed jeans and sneakers, like in  _Grease._  Smile until your face hurts. Make it look like you actually want to be there together."

"I can do it," Rachel nodded.

"I don't care if  _you_  can do it," he snapped. "You have to get Finn and Tina and Mercedes to do it too. Start here... the band over here... Artie on the axe, here."

They watched Noah choreograph the routine with increasing hope. "You think we can do this?" Kurt asked.

"In the bag," Noah said, tossing his head. He looked every bit the badass. Kurt felt a pain inside, for the boy who felt like he had to hide, and the boy he knew who was waiting inside, but he didn't say anything. Noah glared at Rachel. "You say one word about me helping with this, and I swear, you'll get slushied every day from now until Hanukkah."

"My lips are sealed," she said, clutching their notes. "I'm taking these home to write them out. Thank you, guys - I won't let you down."

Kurt watched her head back through Mr. Price's yard toward the school, then turned to Noah, butterflies on overtime. "Quid pro quo," he said. "What do you want?"

Noah stiffened, glaring at the floor. "Fuck," he muttered. "Kurt..."

"I told you anything. I'm not going to back down from that." He crossed his arms, facing Noah boldly. "So what's it going to be? Do you never want to see me again?"

"What? No!" He glanced up, looking hurt. "Not that. Not at all. I... Kurt, I'm really not in any position to ask for what I want from you."

"What, are you scared?" Kurt taunted. "Afraid of the poncy little homo boy? Proximity to me means you're in danger of having it rub off on you?"

Noah shook his head slowly. "No. That's not it. Kurt, I just... I miss you."

Kurt stopped, letting his hands drop. "You... miss me?"

"Yeah. I hate being somebody I'm not all the time. I miss who I am when I'm with you. I don't have to try so hard. I can say crazy stuff and you don't laugh at me. You listen to me. Fuck, you even trusted me to choreograph your stupid Glee number." Noah's hands tightened into fists. "And I _know_  I don't deserve you, especially after what happened in New York... but I still miss you. I really missed reading with you when you stopped calling this summer."

Kurt nodded, afraid to open his mouth and say  _I miss you too, so much,_  because he was right. Noah  _didn't_  deserve him. Instead he stayed where he was, holding himself together, and refusing to let Noah see the hurt that dwelled under the surface.

"We can't be friends," Kurt said. "I don't trust you right now. Maybe not ever again."

"Yeah, I know." He watched Noah shrink a little. "I told you, I'm a jerk."

"You're not just a jerk, Noah." His glare made Noah take a step away. "I  _told_  you who I was. And you just went right ahead and kept on lying to me. Even though you knew I'd understand, you never told me who you really were."

"And who do you think I am, Kurt?" Noah shot back, glaring right back. "Exactly  _who_  am I, that I haven't been showing you all along? Because I think, more than anybody  _ever,_  you get to see all of it."

Kurt threw his hands into the air. "Yeah, except for that part where, apparently, you like  _boys._ And you didn't think this was relevant somehow?"

Noah pleaded with his eyes for Kurt to understand. "I couldn't say that, Kurt. Because I couldn't mess up what we had. Nobody's ever..." He stopped, breathing hard. "You mean more to me than some stupid hookup. And I knew, if I said anything, that I'd fuck it up. Just like I fuck up every relationship I've ever had." He laughed, bitter and sad. "And I guess I did anyway."

"Yeah. You did." Kurt pushed past him to sit on the couch. Noah sat down next to him on the other end, not too close, watching him. Kurt shook his head. "I've felt... like this... for over a year. In fact, I can tell you the exact day when it happened. It was the first day you came over to my house, when we started reading  _Ender's Game,_  and my dad came home. You left before he could invite you to stay for dinner."

Noah grinned. "He wanted me to stay for dinner?"

"I'm trying to declare my feelings, here, and all you can think about is  _food?"_  Kurt groaned. Noah touched his shoulder.

"I knew how you felt," he said quietly. "Maybe not that long ago, but definitely months."

"I didn't tell you because I thought for sure that would make you uncomfortable. And you're telling me you already  _knew?"_ Kurt shook his head. "Why didn't you say something?"

Noah's gaze intensified, his pupils darkening. Kurt felt his breath coming more quickly, swaying closer to Noah.

"Because I tend to fuck anything that moves," Noah said, his voice a little hoarse. "I mean, god, just last month, I came home from theater camp, and I went to a party and hooked up with Finn's  _girlfriend_. And you're  _better_  than that, Kurt."

"Damn right I'm better than that," Kurt replied, as steadily as he could. "And you don't think I'd have the self-control to say  _no,_  if you happened to proposition me?"

Noah's smile was not kind. "I don't think  _I'd_  have the self-control to let you. I can be very persuasive."

Kurt tried to keep his brain in the conversation, but there was a great deal of his heart that was having a screaming diva fit about  _oh my god oh my god Noah likes me._  He focused with extra effort. "You're so sure I wouldn't go along with the kind of thing that you and Chris had, at camp? On the low down?"

Noah stifled a snort. "Uh, you mean the  _down low._ You trying to talk gangsta is just embarrassing. But don't you get it? Chris and me, that wasn't serious. I didn't feel... anything like this."

"Like what?" Kurt knew he shouldn't ask. He should stop this conversation  _right now,_  and walk away, and attempt to forget that Noah...

"Kurt," Noah sighed. "All the stupid words I could say to you about how I feel, they don't mean anything. They've all been said. I mean, even  _this_  speech has." His voice changed, becoming deeper, more resonant, and Kurt felt a shiver travel the length of his spine.  _"Tonight I want to leave behind all of Cupid's arrows and quivers. I don't want to speak about the trite little symbols of love—the sentimental kinds of things that all lovers already speak about. Instead, I want to speak in a fresh, pure language—one that comes directly from my heart. For why should we sip little thimblefuls of dull fashionable waters, when, instead, we can quench our souls' thirst by drinking from the great flooding river!"_

"Noah," Kurt whispered.

"You've spent the last year reading me some of the most memorable words I've heard in my life," Noah went on, in his own voice. "I can't compare to any of them. I can recite you entire monologues of words about love, but what the fuck does that matter if I can't even tell anybody else how I feel about you? If I'm so goddamn ashamed of myself that I can't give you the kind of relationship you deserve?" He shook his head, his eyes slipping closed. "I don't think I could live with myself."

He stood, his hands on the back of his neck. When he turned to face Kurt again, his jaw was set. "You told me I could have... anything."

Kurt quivered. "I did," he managed.

"I'm going to ask for two things," he said. "The first one is for now. The second one is... someday. I don't know when, but someday, I'm going to be sure enough about myself to be able to give you what you need. If you're still single, then... would you consider giving me a chance?"

"A... a chance?"

"A real chance. To be... everything you need. And I think I know you well enough by now, Kurt, to know what that is." He sighed. "But I don't expect you to wait around for me, okay?"

"No," Kurt said, feeling dazed. He could barely believe what he was agreeing to. "I won't."

"Okay." He took a deep breath. "The other one, for now... you're welcome to say no, because it's pretty awful. I'm just ashamed that I'm weak and selfish enough to ask for it anyway."

"What?" Kurt begged.

"Read to me," said Noah. "At night. Like we were going to do over the summer. You don't have to say anything else to me, you can hate me, anything you need to do, but... I just miss hearing your voice so much." His voice broke on the last word, and he turned away. " _Fuck."_

"And every day at school? You're going to, what, throw slushies on me? Put me in a dumpster? Lock me in the port-a-john?" Kurt rose to his feet as his anger escalated, and Noah just backed away from him, down the hall toward the door. "You self-involved  _prick."_

"Yeah. I know. Kurt... I'm so sorry." Noah turned and opened the door, hurrying down the steps toward his truck. Kurt didn't watch him drive away.

He indulged in about ten minutes of hopeless sobbing on the couch before he straightened up, washed his face in cold water, and went to do his homework.

When his dad came home and asked him about his day, he said only, "Noah Puckerman threw me into the dumpster this morning."

"He did  _what?"_  Burt set his fork down, staring at Kurt in confusion. "I knew you guys were arguing, but... that's ridiculous, Kurt. I'm calling the school."

"No - dad, please. Don't. I'm handling it." Kurt shook his head. "Noah's going through his own crises. Just because they sometimes interfere with mine doesn't mean he doesn't deserve my sympathy. But I'm not going to be his friend, and he's not going to be mine, until he can work his own stuff out."

Burt didn't look at all pleased, but he didn't reach for the phone again. "I'm sorry, Kurt."

"Yeah," he said. "Me, too."

Kurt stared at his own phone as he put on his pajamas. He set it on top of his copy of  _Ender's Shadow_ , turned over, and went to sleep.

* * *

The next day before school, Kurt was accosted by four guys in letterman sweaters before he even made it across the street. "What, have you been lying in wait for me?" he snapped, trying to push past them, but they took his arms and hustled him over to the dumpster where Noah was waiting.

Noah's expression was cocky, even friendly. "Hey, Kurt," he said, putting an arm around his shoulder. He looked him up and down. "That outfit's pretty cas, for you. You came prepared for this?"

"Yeah, a little bird with a  _big nose_ told me," he said, sneering at Noah.

"Morning, Kurt," called Mr. Schuester from across the parking lot.

"Buenos nachos, Mr. Schue," Noah replied smoothly. As soon as he'd walked past, they hoisted Kurt into the dumpster.

"Some day you will all work for me," Kurt spat, shaking mustard out of his hair and shuddering. He waited until they'd all left before texting Mercedes, and she and Tina helped haul him out the side.

"At least they let you leave your m-messenger bag out," Tina said helpfully, handing him his change of clothes. "Can we h-help with your hair today?"

"No, I got it," he said. "It just needs a spot cleaning. If I time it right, I can still make it to French class." He gave them a smile as they walked him toward the boys' restroom. "I'm lucky I have friends like you."

"Yeah, well, we're going to be just about the only friends  _any_  of us have by the time tomorrow's pep assembly is over," Mercedes said, shaking her head. "Disco? I really don't know what Mr. Schuester is thinking. It's going to destroy any kind of cool we have left."

Kurt paused, thinking. "You think if we went in the opposite direction, we could break out of the Glee stereotype? Something really... I don't know.  _Dirty."_

"Kurt!" Mercedes exclaimed, as Tina gasped and giggled behind one gloved hand. "You're the last person I would have expected to hear say something like that."

"Yeah, well... I think maybe this school needs to be shaken up a little." He tossed his head, smirking. "Let's get together after school and practice on our own. I've had a little experience with choreography, and I believe I can pull something together that will blow people's minds."

* * *

Kurt was stripping off his blue t-shirt and jeans following the  _Push-It_  number when his phone buzzed. He glanced at it, smiling.  _What the FUCK was that?_

_Hey, you're the expert choreographer,_  he replied.  _You tell me. How'd we do?_

_You slapped Finn's fucking ASS in front of the whole fucking school!_

_Yeah, and he's still talking to me. What, are you jealous? Afraid I might start dating your best friend?_

_You are a grade-a bitch, kurt._  Kurt had his shoes tied before he read Noah's addendum:  _And, fine. you guys were pretty tight. even rachel was hot._

Kurt frowned.  _Hey. Nothing about me? I don't rate a "hot?"_

There was no response to that for a while. But as Kurt was sitting down in history, he got one more text:  _When you do dance, I wish you / A wave o' th' sea, that you might ever do / Nothing but that._

"Put the phone away, Kurt," warned Mr. Field, and Kurt tucked it into his pocket, blushing furiously. It wasn't until after school that he searched for the quote and became absorbed in reading Shakespeare's  _A Winter's Tale_. He read all the way until his dad came home to make dinner.

"How'd the Glee club performance go today?"

"We were hot," Kurt said absently, lost in the world of Perdita and Florizel.

That night, as Kurt was setting his phone down next to his bed, he picked up the copy of  _Ender's Shadow._  Slowly, he opened it to its bookmark. He read the next two pages, biting his lip. Then he picked up his phone again and dialed Noah's number.

"We are not friends," he said, before Noah could even say a word. "I am not here to talk to you, nor listen to your problems, nor enable you in any way to live your miserable closeted little life."

"... Okay," said Noah.

"Just so we understand each other." He sighed and began. "Chapter Two..."

Kurt read the entire chapter. When he reached the end, he listened to Noah's soft breathing.

"Thanks," said Noah. "I mean it."

Kurt hung up before he could hear anything more. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep tonight anyway.

* * *

Kurt carefully didn't watch Finn leaning against Noah's locker, but he somehow managed to search for something in his bag for over three minutes while he listened to what they were saying.

"It's Rachel," Finn was saying. "She yelled at Mr. Schue for his choreography, and now he's gone off to do this  _a cappella_  boy band... uh, man band... thing." He sounded sad. "He doesn't have time for Glee anymore."

"So what, dude?" said Noah, clapping him on the shoulder. "You guys are better off without that douche anyway. He has terrible taste in music. And Rachel's right; his choreography does kind of blow."

"We need Mr. Schue's leadership," Finn protested. "Without him, we're like a ship without a... a steering thingie."

"Yeah. He can still be your steering thingie. Doesn't mean he has to spend all his time holding your hands, does it? You guys have good ideas. That  _Push It_  number was all you. And Mr. Schue didn't have anything to do with  _Don't Stop Believing,_  did he?"

Finn gave Noah a curious look. "How'd you know we were rehearsing that?"

"Like you don't sing it under your breath during every football practice," Noah muttered. "Don't worry, bro. It'll be fine."

"I don't know. I'm thinking about quitting Glee." Finn seemed genuinely troubled. Noah watched his downturned face for another couple minutes before shrugging.

"Give me a couple days, okay?" he called, sauntering down the hall. "I'll think of something."

Kurt had no idea what Noah had in mind until Tina and Mercedes grabbed him in the hallway the next day. "Oh my god, did you hear what Finn and Puck were doing with Mr. Schue in the choir room yesterday?"

"The mind boggles," Kurt said. "Do tell."

"Rehearsing dance steps for Acafellas," Tina whispered. "They're both s-singing in his a cappella group! I think I may die."

Kurt set his mouth into a non-expression. "It's lovely they're finding inspiration elsewhere. I just hope this doesn't mean Finn's thinking of ditching Glee for the big leagues."

"Speaking of big leagues, you bringing your dad's Navigator to the fundraising car wash, Kurt?" Mercedes gave him a smile. "If we raise enough money, we can hire Dakota Stanley to choreograph."

"Wouldn't miss it." Kurt smiled back, but his mind was occupied with visions of Noah shaking it with Mr. Schue and Finn, and they didn't let go until long after he was in bed.

* * *

The next night, however, Kurt picked up the phone before he even got into his pajamas and dialed Noah's number.

"Mercedes threw a  _rock_  through my  _dad's Navigator's window,"_  he snapped.

Noah actually had the audacity to laugh. "Isn't that the car he was going to give you for your birthday?"

"It's not mine yet, and already my insurance payments have skyrocketed."

"She's been carrying a torch for you since  _Grease,_ " he said. "You're surprised?"

"I told her I'm in love with someone else." Kurt swallowed. "Rachel Berry."

"Kurt. God, why didn't you at least pick Tina or somebody reasonably fucking  _sane?"_

"I don't know," he moaned. "I just choked. I wasn't going to come out to Mercedes in the middle of the entire squad of Cheerios."

"Yeah, well, I don't think that's going to be a very believable cover story, unless you want to start dating Rachel for real."

Kurt shuddered. "I don't think I could deal with that. Though you don't seem to have any trouble making out with Santana."

"Hey, I actually  _like_  girls. But Santana dumped me because of my fucking credit score, so I wouldn't worry much about her." Noah didn't sound too upset about it. "So are you talking to me or what? Because last I heard we weren't friends."

"We're not." Kurt reached for his book, scowling.

"Because if we were, I might invite you to the Acafellas concert this weekend."

Kurt paused on the first page of chapter 3. "You're really singing with Mr. Schue?"

"Schue's pretty talented. It's Coach Tanaka and Mr. Ryerson I can't get over. But somebody had to keep an eye on Finn. All by himself out there, he could get into all sorts of trouble."

Kurt suppressed his smile. "Well... I might show up. Just to support Mr. Schue and Finn, you understand."

"Whatever. You going to read, or should I hang up now?"

He cleared his throat. "Chapter Three..."

* * *

Kurt went to the concert by himself. Mercedes sat with Tina on the opposite side of the auditorium. She wouldn't even look at him, but he supposed he deserved it.  _I give Noah a hard time for hiding who he is, and I can't even tell Mercedes?_

Noah was right - Mr. Schue was very talented. But Noah, in his tuxedo shirt, gave Mr. Schue a run for his money in every way. Even in that stupid mohawk, he was still beautiful. Kurt was glad nobody was there to hear the little squeak he made when Noah sang the words  _Let me take off all your clothes / Disconnect the phone so nobody knows._

He wasn't sure if Noah would be home that night, but he tried calling anyway, and he picked up after the second ring.

"Hey," Noah said. "I saw you in the audience. Pretty sweet, huh?"

"You know you were amazing," said Kurt. "Why should I feed your enormous ego?"

"Because I love to hear you say it." Noah grinned. "I also noticed Mercedes still isn't talking to you. You gonna throw her a bone or what?"

"I don't know." Kurt mangled the bookmark, folding it back and forth. "I don't think I can tell her about... everything."

"You think you're going to be able to keep it a secret for long? Just tell her."

"Chapter Four," Kurt said, ignoring Noah's sigh.

* * *

Kurt didn't call Noah the next night. He considered not picking up when he saw Noah's number on the screen, but finally he sighed and thumbed the screen. "What," he snapped.

"Bad day? I didn't even throw you in the dumpster."

"Yeah, well, your dad also didn't walk in on you dancing  _Single Ladies_  in a black unitard. Nor did Brittany try to claim you were the new kicker on the football team, thus dooming you to a semester of after-school suspension and disappointed looks for lying."

"Huh. Joey Langanthal's a pretty sucky kicker, but the last I heard he hadn't been reassigned." Noah sounded thoughtful. "Did you tell Mercedes about you? I saw you guys eating lunch together."

"Yes, I told her." Kurt leaned back on his pillow. "You were right, of course. She was fine."

"Yeah, hearing it from a guy like you, it's not like it's a surprise."

"Oh, you think being me is such a picnic?" he protested. "You're the biggest fucking hypocrite."

"Whoa, an f-bomb from Kurt Hummel. The world may come to an end." Noah didn't sound fazed by Kurt's accusation. "So you really want to be the kicker, or is that just a Beyoncé-induced fantasy?"

Kurt had to laugh at the idea. "My dad would have a heart attack. I'm reasonably certain that's never going to happen, Noah."

"You never know. Talk to Finn. Ask him for a favor; say you only want an audition with the coach. I'll see what I can do behind the scenes."

"You... really?" Kurt sat up, surprised. "Why would you help me?"

"Because I'm Proteus to your Valentine. Come on, read a little bit, okay?"

Later, after Kurt had hung up, he looked up Proteus and Valentine, and found this sonnet from  _Two Gentlemen of Verona:_

_Thou common friend, that's without faith or love,_  
 _For such is a friend now; treacherous man!_  
 _Thou hast beguiled my hopes; nought but mine eye_  
 _Could have persuaded me: now I dare not say_  
 _I have one friend alive; thou wouldst disprove me._  
 _Who should be trusted, when one's own right hand_  
 _Is perjured to the bosom? Proteus,_  
 _I am sorry I must never trust thee more,_  
 _But count the world a stranger for thy sake._  
 _The private wound is deepest: O time most accurst,  
_ _'Mongst all foes that a friend should be the worst!_

Kurt went to sleep with a lump in his throat. For the first time since that summer, he let himself remember what it had felt like to hold Noah's hand, and to be understood.

* * *

<http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KkoDyRJCeRg>

_You know I never want to let you down_   
_It cuts me up to see you sad_   
_And I wish that I could undo what I've done_   
_Give back the faith in me you had_

_Oh yeah_   
_Oh yeah_

_You know I love you more than anyone_   
_But I get a little wrapped up in myself_   
_But you know I never want to do you wrong_   
_Bring into question what we have_

_Oh yeah_   
_I know I let you down_   
_I know I let you down_   
_But you're giving me a chance_

_Oh yeah_   
_I know I let you down_   
_I know I let you down_   
_But you're giving me a chance_

_\- Gotye, "Giving Me A Chance"_


	6. Fall 2009 continued

Kurt got a text while he was walking home from the audition with Coach Tanaka.  _Who said you could bring your faggy Single Ladies music to help you kick?_

He smirked.  _You're just jealous because you haven't scored any points yet this year._

_So what? I will. and fuck u._

_Such a little boy,_  Kurt chided.  _Looks like we're going to be on the team together, hmm?_

_Yeah, and whos going to keep your ass from getting beaten up? not me._

Kurt noticed Andrea's car in her driveway and hurried across the street toward her house.  _I think Finn might have signed up for that job. He can be my white knight. You get to make snide comments about me in front of your so-called friends and preserve your reputation. Enjoy._  He slid his phone back into his pocket and didn't look at it again.

Andrea was hauling her laundry out of the hatchback of her car, but she stopped to hug Kurt. "You look fantastic," she said, beaming at him. "God, it's good to see you."

"How's college?" he asked. She shrugged.

"Better than I expected in some ways, worse in others. I came out to all my floormates right away and nobody seems to care, so that's something. But classes are hard, and getting up to go to eight o'clocks, that's  _really_  hard. I'm auditioning for  _South Pacific_  next week. How about you? How's Glee club?"

Kurt picked up a bag of laundry and followed her into the house. "Oh, I have better gossip than that. Meet the newest member of the McKinley High football team."

She stopped the doorway and stared at him. "Kurt...  _why?"_

"Because it'll make my dad happy. Because I can, apparently, aim the football where it needs to go and give it enough momentum to make it through the goal thingie. Because maybe I can be a jock and a theater geek..." He closed his mouth on his last few words,  _just like Noah,_  because he really  _didn't_  want to be like Noah. Not ever.

"Well... I guess I should come on Friday and cheer you on, then." She smiled. "You think I could bring my girlfriend?"

" _Andrea!"_  he squealed, dropping the laundry bag in the middle of the living room and hugging her again. "Now you must tell me  _everything."_

"Not much to tell. She plays lacrosse, and she's funny, and very cute. I wouldn't destroy your cred if I brought her with me?"

"Whatever cred I have will be abandoned as soon as I turn on the  _Single Ladies_  music at the game this weekend, trust me. I'm so happy for you - and yes, definitely bring her. I can't wait to meet her!"

But Kurt felt a little guilty about the anxiety he felt later when he mentioned to his dad about the game. "Andrea's coming," he said. "You guys could walk over together. She's bringing... a friend."

"Yeah, sure." Burt gave him a curious look. "I'll tell you, Kurt, I was more than a little surprised to find out about you doing football. You didn't even mention it to me. Since when do we hide things from each other?"

His guilt increased, but he tried to maintain a steady gaze. "I wasn't sure I'd made the team until recently. Anyway, I might not like it. What if they laugh at me?"

His dad smiled. "Since when does that keep you from doing anything? I'm sure you'll be great."

Kurt wasn't at all sure. He imagined saying  _oh, and by the way, Andrea's bringing her girlfriend._  He imagined mentioning Noah, and how they'd been secretly reading together at night, while Noah continued harassing him at school. He guessed his dad wouldn't be too pleased to hear about that.

* * *

Two things happened the next day that made Kurt's anxiety worse. One was hearing from Tina that Rachel Berry was quitting Glee to do Sandy Ryerson's  _Cabaret._  Kurt had had enough of Ryerson during freshman year to know he didn't want to be involved in anything else he was doing, but he was worried about the implications for Glee club.

The other thing was that Noah wasn't at school. He didn't text him, but he kept his eyes open. If Finn hadn't looked quite so wrecked himself, he might have asked about him. But after school, Noah was there at football practice. He wouldn't make eye contact with Kurt, and he was as belligerent and arrogant as Kurt had ever seen him. When Mr. Schue led them through a series of dance steps, he thought Noah might go berserk, but instead he just stood on the side of the choir room and watched them, scowling.

"What the hell was up with you today?" Kurt asked that night on the phone. "Seems to me this was a perfect in for you. A lot of those other guys thought the dancing wasn't so bad. Mr. Schue and Coach Tanaka said everything right. Why are you still being such an asshole?"

"Because not everything's about performing," Noah spat back. "You're so caught up in your own little fucking drama. Don't you think maybe other people might have problems sometimes?"

"Noah... performing is your  _life._  Don't try to tell me differently. What's going on?"

"It doesn't matter." Noah's voice was lifeless. "My fucking dad screwed up by getting my mom pregnant with me, and it's just going to happen to me all over again. I'm such a fucking  _idiot._ "

"Your dad?" Kurt said, confused, but Noah cut him off.

"You really think those guys would think it was okay if I got up in front of them and tried to show them what I can do? They'd laugh in my face. Because I'm just a Lima loser, just like all those  _other_  fucking Lima losers. Nobody cares about that shit here. I might as well give it up now."

"Yeah, that's the answer. Give up. Since when does Noah Puckerman give up?"

"Just... don't, Kurt," he muttered. "I'm not up for a pep talk."

Kurt took a deep breath. "Okay. How about a chapter, then?"

"I guess."

Noah didn't hang up on him, so Kurt went ahead and read to him, listening to his breathing even out. Eventually he stopped. "Noah?" There was silence. Kurt disconnected the call, putting the bookmark a few pages back. He was pretty sure Noah would never admit to having fallen asleep while Kurt was reading, but he didn't want him to miss any of the story, either.

* * *

He hadn't any idea of how much time had passed when the phone woke him up later that night.

"Hello?" he grunted, trying to focus enough to see what time the clock read.

"I'm such a fucking joke," he heard Noah's voice say, slurring a little. "A fucking  _joke."_

Kurt sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Noah, are you okay? Where are you?"

"I made that catch. _I_ made it. I got that touchdown, and then you made the kick.  _We_  were the stars, Kurt. I should have been the one to hug you, to..." He swore under his breath, and Kurt felt it like a punch in the gut. "But no.  _They_  get to kiss on the field, not me."

"One thing at a time, Noah. You danced on the field, and nobody beat you up for it. We won the game. And..." He bit his lip. "I came out to my dad."

"Holy shit, Kurt,  _really?"_  Noah laughed, and Kurt laughed breathlessly with him. "Fuck, what did he say?"

"He said he'd known since I was three," Kurt admitted. "And then he hugged me and told me he loved me just as much."

"That's awesome. I'm... that's great. Way to go." Noah sounded genuinely happy for him. Kurt smiled.

"Thanks. And I was really proud of you tonight, making that catch and the goal and everything."

"Yeah? You were proud of me?"

"Don't say it like you're so embarrassed by the idea. Nobody's here to listen but me. You can just be yourself."

There was a silence. Then Noah's breath caught, just a small sound.

"Noah?"

"Yeah, Kurt, I really can't. But thanks, anyway." His phone went silent. Kurt stared at it for a few minutes before curling up under the covers again. He fell asleep holding the phone in his hand.

* * *

_Heads up,_  said the text from Noah, but that was all it said. Kurt wasn't sure if he should risk responding to it or not; Mr. Schue was usually pretty cool about them having cell phones out in Glee club, but he just sat down in the second row and watched for anything out of the ordinary.

_Like Noah, Mike and Matt walking into Glee club,_  he thought, trying not to stare.

"Welcome to our three newest members," said Mr. Schue, holding out his hand as they entered the room. Nobody else even pretended to look anything but shocked.

"You liked the dancing?" Tina whispered to Mike between verses of  _Tonight._

"I did," Mike whispered back. "Matt's just here for the girls. Puck told us we had to, though, so I thought, why not?"

As soon as rehearsal was over, Kurt had his phone out.  _You told them they had to?_

_You guys needed guys if your going to sectionals,_  Noah replied.  _Nobody says no to Puck._

_What happened to being ridiculed for being in Glee?_

_Yeah, itll still happen. but whatever. my ego can take it._

Kurt grinned despite himself.  _I'm sure it can. Do you have any other surprises in store?_

_Don't count on it. I gotta be extra butch to survive homo explosion. expect to see girls hanging all over me._

_I wouldn't expect anything less, Noah. And thanks._

_Don't mention it._

* * *

Noah's text the next day sat unanswered for several minutes.  _where were you 2day?_

_For your information, I was home sick,_  Kurt replied.

_I bet,_  Noah said. Kurt could just  _hear_  his smirk. He rolled his eyes.

_Fine. April Rhodes' pick-me-up pushed me down._

_Kurt Hummel is fucking hung over? thats about the most hilarious thing ive ever heard._

_Yeah, well, tell that to Ms. Pillsbury's shoes. I feel so stupid._

_Your totally not the first person to puke from chablis. but youd better be back tomorrow. glee is totally lame without you._

Kurt tried not to appreciate that compliment quite so much, especially considering the amount of time he'd already spent that day looking at April Rhodes' muscle magazines and thinking about Noah.  _I'm sure you can find some way to amuse yourself._

But the next day, Noah was the one who was absent from Glee. Kurt sent him a quick text while Schue was talking to the girls.  _Don't tell me you're hung over today?_

_Much drink may be said to be an equivacater with lechery. it makes him and it mars him. it sets him on and it takes him off._

Kurt giggled.  _I know you're quoting that from memory, because you spelled "equivocator" wrong._  He glanced up to see Mr. Schue glaring at him. "Uh - sorry. Funny YouTube. It's the grape-stomping one."

_Yeah, I know I suck at spelling. dont have to rub it in. and no, it's not drinking or sex that kept me home today. sarahs sick._

Kurt wrestled with a response all through Glee. When Mercedes asked him afterwards, "You want to go to the mall with me?" he'd either made up his mind or succumbed to temptation.

"I can't today," he apologized, heading to his car. It was a small lie, but he still felt guilty as he sat in the front seat of his brand-new Navigator, his phone in his hands.

_You want a relief pitcher for Sarah-care?_

_Relief pitcher?_  asked Noah.

_Or at least some company._

He held his breath until he saw Noah's reply.  _Yeah, I guess._

Noah still hadn't let him come to his house. Kurt wasn't sure what he would find there, but he had some vague ideas, and he was sure it wasn't going to be pretty. He dialed Noah's number.

"Are you sure?" asked Kurt, starting the ignition. Kurt could hear cartoons in the background behind Noah's soft sigh.

"Yeah. It's okay."

"Is there anything I can bring? I can stop at the store. Sometimes when I'm sick, it's nice to have something sweet."

"You don't have to bring her anything."

"Are you telling me she wouldn't eat cake if I brought some?" Noah sighed again, more exasperated this time, and Kurt laughed. "I really don't have to come at all."

"No, it's... it'd be nice. Just... don't expect too much, all right? Yeah, I'm sure she'd love cake, but... fuck."

"I'm asking, Noah. It's not for you. It's for Sarah. Now tell me your address, and I'll be there in a half hour."

The address Noah gave him was near the outside of town, almost in Elida. Kurt stopped at Ray's and picked up some cupcakes with ridiculous-colored frosting. He also got milk, orange juice, bread, cereal and peanut butter, which he figured he would leave in the Navigator until he saw the state of the house. If Sarah needed food, he'd find a way to sneak it in when Noah wasn't looking.

The paint was peeling on half of the house. The other half was painted green, as though someone had stopped in the middle of repainting it. He could see, even from the outside, that the garage roof needed work. Noah's truck was the only car in the driveway. Kurt parked in the street and went to the front, but then he heard Noah's voice calling "Come around the side."

Kurt picked his way through overgrown shrubs and cracked pavement to the side porch, stacked with milk cartons and broken bike parts. He passed the cupcakes to Noah, who took them with a wry smile.

"Rainbow frosting?" he said. "Really?"

"It's for Sarah," Kurt objected. "What seven-year-old doesn't like rainbows? I'm not trying to convert her or something."

"Well." Noah gestured into the house with a sense of futility. "Come on in. Home sweet fuckin' home."

Noah had been right. It was worse than Kurt could have imagined. There was stuff on every imaginable surface, and on top of the stuff was papers, stacks of dishes, magazines, and more  _stuff._  Kurt could barely tolerate looking at the grimy walls and the dusty furniture and not go immediately into the kitchen for gloves and a sponge, but he knew it was futile.

"She's in our room," he said, pushing through the hallway to the back of the house. "Last door."

Kurt didn't ask  _You share a room with your sister?_  because he guessed if there even was a third bedroom in this house, the stuff would hold dominion over the people. Kurt kept his hands to himself as best as he could as they edged their way past boxes and piles in the hallway into the bedroom.

There, at least, the stuff had been somewhat contained. There was space on the floor to walk, and most of the mess was reasonable for one kid and one teenage boy. Sarah was stretched out on one of the single beds, playing the Nintendo DS. She looked up and smiled when she saw Kurt.

"Hi," she said, sounding surprised, and looked at Noah.

"It's okay, squirt," said Noah, sitting on the edge of the bed. "He just wanted to come hang out for a little bit."

"I brought cake," Kurt said, holding it up, and she squealed, descending upon him. "Hey, wait, hang on... I have napkins here too. And, uh, milk. In the car, if you want it."

"Milk!" shouted Sarah, trying to wrest the plastic cover off the cupcake box. Noah laughed, taking it away from her.

"You might be able to find some cups in the sink that aren't too dirty," said Noah. "Either that or there are plastic ones on top of the microwave."

"I'll be right back," Kurt promised, taking off his coat and leaving it on the other bed, which, while it hadn't been made, at least had had the bedspread pulled up. He made his way back through the house to the side porch and around to his car, grabbing all the groceries.

Back inside, he found the kitchen, which was just as filthy as the rest of the house. All the counters were covered with dishes, most of which looked kind of clean, and the sink was full. Kurt found three plastic Solo cups in a package on the greasy microwave. The refrigerator was mostly full, but Kurt found a couple things that had expired to swap out for the fresh food. He brought the cups and the milk with him back to the bedroom, where Sarah was already halfway through a cupcake.

"Tank you," she said through a full mouth, before he'd even sat back down on the bed. He grinned, pouring her a half-cup of milk.

"Don't tell me that's the only thing you ate today," he said. She shook her head.

"Noah went and got me an egg mcmuffin for breakfast," she said.

"It was cold when she ate it. She slept most of the morning." Noah took the sticky cupcake paper away from Sarah and wiped the frosting off her face with a t-shirt off the floor. Kurt tried not to grimace.  _Not my house; not my life._

"Aren't you going to have one?" Kurt said to Noah. He hesitated for a moment before giving in. Kurt helped himself to the third one. "Wouldn't do to be eating cake by myself on my birthday, would it?"

Noah nearly dropped his cupcake. "Your birthday?"

"Sweet sixteen," Kurt smiled. "Well, yesterday. How do you think I drove myself over here? My dad's been teaching me on the refurbished Navigator."

Noah looked completely floored. "God, Kurt. You really don't have to be over here on your birthday."

"I know I don't have to be." He smiled at Sarah, who was gulping her milk. "But thanks for letting me, anyway." He gestured at the television, which appeared to have been paused in the middle of a live production of something. "What did I interrupt?"

Sarah made a face. "Noah's stupid play. It's  _so_  boring."

"Kurt likes that boring stuff too, squirt." He passed Kurt the DVD case. " _Macbeth._ It's Judy Dench and Ian McKellen with the Royal Shakespeare Company. I only just got through Act I."

The hopeful look on Noah's face made it impossible for Kurt to do anything but settle in on Sarah's bed, holding the rest of the cupcakes awkwardly on his lap. "Wouldn't be my birthday without a little Shakespeare."

The performance was flawless. By the middle of Act III, Sarah was snoring on the bed next to Kurt. Noah came over and pulled a blanket over her.

"You really don't have to stay," he said in an undertone.

"I know," said Kurt. "I wanted to come." He passed Noah the cupcakes. "I should get going, though. And you might want to put the milk in the fridge."

Noah paused the DVD and helped Kurt climb over Sarah's sleeping form, grabbing his coat on the way. "You didn't tell me last year it was your birthday in October," Noah said suspiciously. "And we were friends then."

"Were we?" asked Kurt, raising an eyebrow. "I don't seem to recall you mentioning your birthday, either."

"Yeah, okay. But mine was over the summer. July 12."

They paused in the middle of the family room, or Kurt assumed it was supposed to be that. He could barely spot a path through it, much less any place to sit. Noah stood there uncomfortably.

"I don't have anything to give you," he said.

Kurt shook his head. "You don't have to. Unless you have words to offer. Did Shakespeare say anything about birthdays?"

Noah wrinkled his brow in a very becoming way. Kurt could easily have gotten lost in staring at that little eyebrow-wrinkle for hours, but then it smoothed out and Noah grinned. He leaned in closer to Kurt.

"To me, fair friend, you never can be old," he said;

"For as you were when first your eye I eye'd,

Such seems your beauty still."

He reached out one hand, slowly, and brought it to Kurt's face, brushing a thumb across Kurt's lips. Kurt's eyes closed. For a moment, he didn't know what was happening. Then Noah removed his thumb, holding it up, a smudge of rainbow decorating the tip.

"Frosting," he said, and put it in his mouth, sucking it off.

Kurt just stared up at him with wide eyes until Noah grinned and took a step backwards. "Thanks for the cupcakes, Kurt. And... happy birthday."

Kurt somehow made his way home in the dusk, not really noticing street lights or stop signs, but eventually he ended up in his driveway. His dad was already in the kitchen, making dinner.

"Hey, champ," he said as Kurt came in. "How's the car driving?"

"Like a dream," Kurt assured him, his voice only a little shaky. "I'm going to... clean up downstairs before dinner, all right?"

Right at that moment, there was no way Kurt was going to be able to sit through dinner with his dad without taking the most immediate edge off his lustful thoughts. Noah sucking his own finger quickly became the feature performer in Kurt's fantasies (barely edging out Noah in his briefs saying  _Kurt, I need something_ and Noah kneeling between Kurt's legs saying  _why don't you let me be the one to tell you when I want you to stop)._

That night, however, he called Noah, and his mind was not clouded by lust.

"Okay," he said, "look. I think I want to be your friend again. But you're going to need to agree to some basic ground rules. No slushies. No dumpsters. No homophobic epithets to my face; whatever you want to say in front of the rest of the school is up to you."

"Deal," Noah agreed. "Anything else?"

Kurt had thought this through, too. "We're already in Glee together, and football. I don't think we need to totally avoid each other. I'm not saying I want to eat lunch together every day, but... I mean, aren't you sick of this?"

"Yeah." Noah sounded wary. "But, dude, you can't tell anybody about Chris, okay?"

"I won't say anything." Kurt hesitated, holding the book in his hand. "Do... you still talk to him?"

"I talk to him online sometimes. He texts me. It's not -"

"I know. It's not serious. Noah, you can do whatever you want with anybody you want. I don't care."

"Oh." He paused. "Really?"

Kurt sighed. "No. But I don't think I have much of a right to say anything about it."

"Okay. I mean... that matters, I guess. To me, anyway."

He smiled. "So, friend... I have this book here, with a bookmark in it..."

"Oh, yeah," groaned Noah, laughing, "talk Battle School to me, baby."

* * *

It was a lot easier to  _tell_  Noah he didn't care who he did stuff with than it was for him to see him doing it. Which was to say watching Noah sing to Rachel Berry was a little on the weird side, but Kurt figured he could be the big man about it.

"You sounded great today in Glee," he told Noah on the phone that night. "It's been a long time since I heard you play guitar."

"Yeah, who knew Neil Diamond could make it so easy to get a girl to make out with you."

"You really like Rachel?"

"Yeah. She's as good as anybody, I think. As long as Finn's dating Quinn, he won't care."

"Noah," Kurt said, sitting forward suddenly, "are you going out with Rachel just to make Quinn  _jealous?"_

"No." Noah sighed. "Just forget it and read, will you? We stopped at a good part last night. I couldn't think about anything in history except Bean."

"She's not going to break up with Finn," Kurt said.

"This isn't about Quinn," he snapped.

"Who is it about, then?"

"It's about you, okay?"

Kurt put down the book. "Me?"

"I was a jerk to Rachel. And... I was a jerk to you, too. And today, when she was washing the slushie out of my hair, I told her how much it sucked, because nobody deserves to feel like that. And you don't either. I just... I never told you I was sorry."

"Yeah, you did," said Kurt quietly. "But I think maybe you didn't really mean it until right now. So... thanks."

Noah was silent for a long moment. Then he sighed again. "I hate lying to my friends."

"I know."

"No, I mean... listen, Kurt... it's Quinn. The baby... it's mine."

Kurt leaned his chin on his knees. "I know."

"You - what?"

"I'm not completely stupid, Noah. I see the way you are around her. Even if you don't love her, you want to do the right thing. Well, you know what I think the right thing is?"

Noah sounded bewildered. "What?"

"Letting somebody else raise the baby. Somebody who's grown up enough to be ready to choose that for him or herself. Quinn isn't ready for that, and you would be miserable doing it with her."

"Yeah," Noah said quietly. "I just think, probably, my dad would have been happier if he hadn't had me. I mean, yeah, he loves me, but his life was already pretty fucked up, and having me didn't help him any. I don't want to make the same mistakes he did."

"You'll make your own mistakes, Noah."

He laughed. "Yeah, no doubt. Thanks, Kurt."

"Good night, Noah."

* * *

Kurt texted Noah as soon as he got home from school.  _That was really big of you, quitting football for Glee. And Mike and Matt, too. I'm glad I wasn't the only one._

_Yeah, well, it didn't matter, did it? finn still wimped out. we can't exactly go to sectionals with only eleven people._

He set his bag down and flopped onto the couch.  _It's the principle of the thing, Noah. You're standing up for what matters to you. I, for one, admire you for it._

_At least I can do something worthwhile,_ Noah replied _. rachel dumped me for finn anyway. now I don't have football or a girlfriend. that pretty much definse loser right there._

He felt a tingle of possibility.  _So, what, you're just sitting around at home feeling sorry for yourself?_

_On the bleachers, but yeah, pretty much._

Kurt hesitated with his thumbs over the keys to spell out  _Come over, then_  for almost an entire minute before going for it. Then he hid his face in his hands for several more, thinking,  _God, Kurt, what are you doing? You're such an idiot._

When he looked back at the screen, it said:  _Cant. gotta go pick up sarah. but thanx._

Kurt wasn't sure if he should feel blown off or relieved or both. He decided in the end to just ignore the whole thing and do his homework.

* * *

Kurt ran into Noah on the way into school, carrying two big bags of groceries. "What's all this for?" he asked, grabbing a bag, balanced precariously on Noah's arm.

"Flour, sugar, chocolate." Noah grinned at him. "What's it look like? I'm making a nuclear weapon."

"I thought that was a  _junior_  year science project?" Kurt followed him down the hall to the home ec room, dropping the bags on the counter. "Fess up, now."

"Cupcakes for Glee fundraising, man," said Noah. "Quinn made a bunch yesterday, but they sucked. I have mad baking skillz, yo. Don't you want to skip Algebra and help? Reduce the chances of me burning the school down."

"Why would I want to  _reduce_  your chances of doing that?" Kurt laughed. He paused, his smile dimming for a moment. "So we're actually doing this."

Noah's smile vanished. "Doing what?"

"Being friends. We're going to give this a try?"

"Hey, you already know what a rotten friend I am." Noah held up his hands. "Don't come crying to me when I turn out to be an asshole."

"I think I'm smart enough to take cover if I notice the asshole emerging from its lair. And god, I did not really just say that, did I?"

Noah snickered at Kurt's blush. "You're fucking adorable."

Kurt fled the home ec room, clutching his messenger bag, before he found himself making any more vaguely lewd references to Noah's body parts. But he held the words  _you're fucking adorable_  close, like a lucky stone in his pocket, and turned it over several times during the day, his stomach doing a flip every time.

Unfortunately, the lucky stone's power seemed to have run out by the following day. Kurt left Glee in disgrace after botching the high F in  _Defying Gravity_ and went to hide in the boys' bathroom, using the regrettably rough toilet paper to blow his nose. Eventually he heard the door open.

"Occupied," he said, his voice quavering.

"It's a public bathroom," said Noah. He came around the side of the stall and stared at Kurt, looking uncomfortable. "You need anything?"

"A little privacy," he snapped. Noah took a step back, and Kurt sighed, adding, "Wait."

He leaned on the side of the stall. "People fuck up auditions."

"I bet you never did."

"Well, no," Noah agreed. "I just fuck up everything else. You don't have to -"

"My dad got a crank phone call," Kurt interrupted. "Nothing big, just  _your son's a fag,_  but..." He swallowed, dabbing at his eyes. "He's not used to it like I am."

"Yeah." Noah shifted from foot to foot, like he didn't know what to do with himself. "I'm sorry, Kurt."

"Hey, you didn't do it." He glanced sharply up at Noah. "Did you?"

"Fuck you," Noah murmured. Then he rolled his eyes, reached out and pulled Kurt into a hug. Kurt was so startled, he didn't resist, and before he knew it, he was crying into Noah's t-shirt. Noah didn't seem to care. "Fuck them, too. And fuck me, for ever treating you that way."

"I can deal with it," Kurt sobbed. "If it's just me. But it's not just me anymore, and... I can't do that to my dad. I can't."

"Wait a second." Noah pulled back, gripping Kurt by the shoulders, squinting at him. "Did you throw that audition?"

"I couldn't let him -"

"You did, didn't you?" Noah's expression was disgusted. "Dammit, Kurt, you're supposed to be the brave one here.  _I'm_  the coward, remember?"

"Yeah, well, sometimes it's not about you, okay?" Kurt cried. "I don't want to have to be the poster boy for every closet case in Ohio! Sometimes I just want to take care of my family. What's wrong with that?"

"Tell me you think I'm taking care of mine, by hiding," Noah shot back. "You tell me that."

Kurt glared back at him. "I'm just saying... sometimes I understand why you do it. Sometimes I do. And I'm not perfect either."

Noah's hands were still curled tightly around Kurt's biceps. They tightened, and for just a moment, Kurt felt himself yearning toward Noah, forgetting the diva-off and the wheelchairs and everything except Noah's body, warm and solid and right there in front of him. Noah's eyes widened, and he pushed Kurt away from him with a muffled curse.

"Don't," he whispered. Then he turned and disappeared through the doorway.

Kurt stayed in the bathroom until Mercedes came to find him, and all he could think was that he was glad he didn't need to come up with an excuse for why he was crying.

* * *

Kurt didn't call Noah that night, or the night after that. When he saw his number on the screen the following night, he considered turning it off, but he couldn't bring himself to ignore Noah any longer.

"So am I the only one who cares about finishing this book?" Noah said when he picked up.

"I've been a little distracted." Kurt set the iron down before switching to speakerphone. "This ballad assignment has got me all worked up. I can't deal with Finn's angst on top of my own. You have to talk to him, Noah."

"Forget it. Mercedes told me to back off, and seriously? She can have him. Glee club's making me sing him a stupid ballad to be all supportive and shit. But if Quinn's not going to stick her neck out and tell Finn the truth, I'm sure as hell not going to either."

"He's your best friend, Noah," said Kurt, laying a vicious crease in his shirt with the iron, then spraying it with water and ironing it back out again. "What kind of best friend -"

"We've already established how much of a coward I am. And I think you know by now exactly how bad a friend I am, too. What exactly do you expect from me?"

"Maybe I have higher expectations of you than you have of yourself." The phone buzzed, and Kurt looked at the screen to see a second call coming in. He blinked. "Hang on... I have to take this call." He pushed the button to switch over, taking a deep breath to calm down. "Well, hello, Finn Hudson."

"I'm over at the Fabrays and I'm freaking out," Finn blurted. "What does a heart attack feel like?"

"Settle down, cowboy. This is why we burned the disc and spent all that time rehearsing."

"I can't do it!"

"Yes, you can," Kurt insisted. "Just remember the power of the ballad."

"I have to go; they'll think I'm pooping." Kurt heard him disconnect the call, and sighed, switching back over to Noah.

"I think you might want to be ready to deal with Finn in a little while, here," he said. "Because either he's about to have a meltdown, or Quinn is going to kill him. And I'm pretty sure her parents aren't going to be too happy either way."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"He's over at Quinn's house right now. He's going to tell them about the baby. You really want to be supportive of your kid? Be the big man. Stop hiding your emotions."

"You sent him to the  _Fabrays?"_  shouted Noah. "Her dad is a psycho. He won't even let me near their house. What did you do, Kurt?"

He ignored the tears that sprang into his eyes. "If you won't let me tell Finn the truth, at least he can tell his. You get to be the one to pick up the pieces." He stabbed at his phone and tossed it onto the bed before switching off the iron. He wasn't in any frame of mind to be handling heavy, steaming-hot chunks of metal.

Then he sighed and went to find the ballad that had been haunting his mind since they'd gotten the assignment - for months before that, if he had to be honest.  _Honest._  He shook his head.  _Talk about hypocritical._

_I'm not trying to make you feel uncomfortable_  
I'm not trying to make you anything at all  
But this feeling doesn't come along every day  
And you shouldn't blow the chance  
When you've got the chance to say  
I love you  
I honestly love you

If he couldn't sing it to Noah, at least he could sing it for the assignment. Maybe it would help, just like it had helped Finn to sing his feelings about his fictional baby. He curled up on his bed, holding the sheet music close to his chest.  _Maybe we're all just living in a collective delusion._

Kurt didn't pick up when Noah called the next time, or the time after that. Eventually, he stopped calling.

* * *

<http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_dXfZ5Lrt_0>

_There's a fine, fine line between a lover and a friend;_   
_There's a fine, fine line between reality and pretend;_   
_And you never know 'til you reach the top if it was worth the uphill climb._   
_There's a fine, fine line between love_   
_And a waste of time._

_There's a fine, fine line between a fairy tale and a lie;_   
_And there's a fine, fine line between "You're wonderful" and "Goodbye."_   
_I guess if someone doesn't love you back it isn't such a crime,_   
_But there's a fine, fine line between love_   
_And a waste of your time._

_And I don't have the time to waste on you anymore._  
 _I don't think that you even know what you're looking for._  
 _For my own sanity, I've got to close the door_  a _nd walk away_

_There's a fine, fine line between together and not_   
_And there's a fine, fine line between what you wanted and what you got._   
_You gotta go after the things you want while you're still in your prime..._   
_There's a fine, fine line between love_   
_And a waste of time._

_\- Joel Pitts, "There's A Fine, Fine Line" from Avenue Q_


	7. Winter 2010

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I approached the episodes Mattress and Sectionals, I did not relish dealing with them again, as I've already written those events at great length in my Donutverse. If you want to read a detailed subtextual retelling of them, go check out Bending in the Archer's Hand. Forgive me for glossing over them here, but my heart couldn't bear it. Moving on, and thanks as always for reading. 
> 
> Warnings in this chapter for sexual themes and discussion of masturbation, and still more angst.
> 
> -amy

 

After the mattress debacle and Finn's blow-up with Noah, Kurt found himself feeling less and less excited about participating in Glee. Even their win at sectionals didn't seem like much of a meaningful event. "Who cares who won, with judges like those?" he tried to tell Mercedes, but she shook her head.

"I care," she said. "I've gone all my life being ignored, and I'm not going to miss this chance to stand in the spotlight, even if it's only for a little while."

"But we weren't very good," he insisted. "We pulled it together at the last minute. Sure, maybe we had heart, but I don't want people to admire me for my heart, or any of my other organs. I want them to see my  _talent."_

She threw an arm around him in a half-hug. "Maybe you'll get that chance, now that we're moving on to regionals."

Clearly Mercedes didn't understand. In desperation, Kurt went to Mrs. Wright. She seemed surprised to see him, but she smiled and welcomed him into her office.

"What can I do for you, Kurt? How's sophomore year going? I noticed you joined Glee club."

"Yes, that's actually what I wanted to talk to you about." He sat down across from her desk. "I don't know if Glee's really giving me what I need. It's fun to sing with the crowd, but I'm not getting many opportunities to be in the spotlight. I wish we had a drama club, but I can't exactly start one on my own. I was hoping maybe you could help with that."

Mrs. Wright set down her glasses and sighed. "Kurt... I wouldn't expect you to understand the nature of high school politics, but... there's a reason why I don't teach drama at McKinley anymore. Do you know what I mean by the term  _blackballed?"_

"Oh, trust me," Kurt said, grimacing. "I get that very well. But I can't imagine Mr. Schuester wouldn't be supportive of you if you really wanted -"

"Will Schuester's a very nice guy, Kurt, but he doesn't have any power in this school either. He's fighting upstream the whole way to get Glee club off the ground. I spent too much of my teaching career playing that game, and... I just don't have the energy to put into a fight like that anymore." She smiled apologetically. "I hope you understand. Now, I'd be happy to put you in touch with some very reasonably-priced drama coaches..."

"No," he said, rising from his chair. There was no way his dad would be able to afford that. "Thanks anyway."

She nodded. "Would you tell Noah I hope he's doing all right?"

"We're not really talking much these days," he said. She nodded again, sadly this time.

"It's a shame when good talent gets wasted," she said. "At least he hasn't given up on the club at the university."

He paused. "What club at the university?"

"I thought you knew. OSU Lima has a drama club that meets on Tuesday nights at Reed Hall. He didn't mention it?"

"No," said Kurt slowly. "Like I said, we haven't been talking in the last few weeks. But it sounds like this has been going on for a while?"

"Noah's been involved since he was a freshman. They do a show every spring. Kurt, I'm sorry..."

He shook his head as he went toward the door, the bitter taste in his mouth causing an expression something like a smile. "No, really - don't be. It's good to get everything out in the open."

* * *

Kurt watched Noah more carefully over the next few weeks. Sure enough, he always ducked out of school right at the bell on Tuesday. When Mr. Schue tried to schedule an extra Glee rehearsal to practice their Madonna numbers, Noah refused to come.

"I know you don't think Madonna translates to show choir, Puck, but we need everyone to participate if we're going to win at regionals," said Mr. Schue. "This is a group effort."

Noah just scowled. "You don't really need me for this. Don't worry, I'll show up for the competition. But I'm not going to waste my time practicing background vocals and dance moves I could do in my sleep. I've got real stuff going on, you know."

Santana rolled her eyes at his dramatic exit. "Yeah, like getting stoned with the rest of the dopeheads in Loserville?"

Mercedes came to stand beside Kurt as he watched Noah leave. "We've got our own stuff going on too, Kurt. Don't worry about Puckerman's bad attitude. Our  _Vogue_  video was fantastic. Didn't you have a blast doing that?"

"I guess," Kurt shrugged. She slugged him on the arm.

"What happened to my Kurt Hummel? Last I checked, all he wanted to do was to get up on the stage and get noticed."

"Yeah, and have  _you_  noticed how much attention we're  _not_  getting in Glee? Even our sectionals win just made us more obvious slushie targets." Kurt frowned as he considered Mrs. Wright's words.  _Will Schuester's a very nice guy, Kurt, but he doesn't have any power in this school either._  He turned toward Mercedes, his face resolute. "I have a crazy idea. I think we need a bigger stage... and a more powerful spotlight."

* * *

Kurt pulled his Cheerios sweater over his head and stumbled back when he emerged to find Noah standing before him in the empty locker room, staring at him.

"A Cheerio?" he snapped. "What the  _fuck,_  Kurt?"

"You've got your opportunities for performance, I've got mine," Kurt said, turning away. He didn't exactly feel comfortable with Noah looking at him with no shirt on, but it would be more awkward to try to put it back on.

"What's that supposed to mean? Since when have you  _ever_  wanted to be a cheerleader?"

"Maybe since I got passed over for every solo in Glee club," he retorted. "Or maybe since I found out you've been participating in drama club at the University without me for  _years."_

"Kurt," Noah began, but Kurt wheeled on him, his shirtless state be damned.

"Didn't you think I would have liked that opportunity, too? You knew I couldn't afford acting lessons, and you  _still_  didn't tell me. Maybe you didn't think I was good enough?"

"No!" shouted Noah. He glanced around nervously, then brought his voice down. "No, Kurt, that's totally not it at all. You know I think you're talented."

"Fine." Kurt crossed his arms. "Then why? Because you're ashamed of me, your gay friend? Don't you know I've been dying to do a show with you since I first saw you perform?"

"Don't you know I feel the same way?" Noah said. He gritted his teeth. "Dammit, Kurt, after everything that's happened with the baby, and Finn, and... and you... that drama group's been the only thing I've had to hang on to. I couldn't lose that too." He took a step toward Kurt, touching his elbow. Kurt couldn't bring himself to pull away; he simply stood there, feeling the tingling pulse of Noah's touch on his skin. "I just don't know what would happen if I got up on a stage with you."

"What would happen?" Kurt echoed. Noah's fingers brushed up his arm, and he caught his breath.

"I'm such a sucker for that fucking Cheerios uniform," Noah whispered. The look in his dark eyes was pained. He made a groaning noise, deep in his throat, then pulled himself away from Kurt, heading toward the exit.

"There's only one way to find out what would happen, Noah," Kurt said, stopping him in his tracks.

Noah sighed, his head dropping. He didn't turn back around, but Kurt saw him nod. "I'm not going to stop you from coming to the drama club on Tuesdays," he said. "You can do whatever you want."

"Is that right?" Kurt said softly. He saw Noah shiver. "Whatever I want?"

"Kurt," Noah said, pleading.

"Okay. All right." Kurt took a step back. It was like his words released Noah from a spell, and he disappeared from the locker room at a near run.

Kurt sank to the locker room bench, his knees shaking. He waited there for several minutes before he felt ready to face the school again.

* * *

The next day in Glee was torture. Noah stood beside him, clustered around the piano with the other guys, rehearsing their Madonna number.

"... But for a boy to look like a girl is degrading because you think being a girl is degrading," read Artie from their script.

"Secretly, you'd love to know what it's like, wouldn't you," read Kurt. He could feel Noah's eyes on him. "What it feels like for a girl."

They made it through the number before Noah blew up. "I am  _not_  down with this. I like being a dude."

"That's because it's easy to be a dude," Finn replied. Noah sneered.

"Uh, Mr. Schue, I think we're going to need a new baritone, because Finn would apparently like to become  _Finessa."_

"We haven't been treating the girls so well," Artie argued.

"As an honorary girl, I have to agree." Kurt avoided Noah's stare. "This team shouldn't work, but it does, because we respect each other's talent. And if we want to take it to the next level, we have to start respecting each other as individuals. Really seeing each other."

Noah stayed in the choir room after the rest of the guys left. He sat on the risers, his elbows on his knees, watching Kurt intently.

"Would you stop staring at me?" Kurt finally snapped.

Noah shook his head. "'Theatre is the greatest of all art forms, the most immediate way in which a human being can share with another the sense of what it is to be a human being.'" He clasped his hands together. "You remember?"

"The Thornton Wilder quote. Of course I remember. Your dad gave it to us in the scavenger hunt." Kurt smiled wryly. "He was queer, just like me. Wilder, not your dad."

"You can make fun of yourself all you want, Kurt. But I'm thinking I haven't really been... respecting you as an individual." Noah gestured to him from head to toe. "Really  _seeing_  you."

"I don't know." Kurt met Noah's gaze and held it, trying to ignore the quaking inside. "I think you see me pretty clearly."

"I know what I see," Noah said, his voice low. "I'm trying not to focus too much on that, because it's a little distracting."

Kurt wouldn't let himself listen to what Noah was saying - wouldn't consider the possibility he was offering. He wouldn't. "I mean... you know what I mean. You've always seen the real me."

Noah flexed his hands. "And I'm saying sometimes I have a hard time remembering you're not just a pretty face. Because... fuck, Kurt."

"You don't have to say that, Noah," Kurt said, his voice coming out a little panicked. "You - you don't have to pretend."

"You think I'm pretending?" Noah said. He sounded almost angry. "Really? Because right now, I feel like I'm finally telling you what's true. Mostly I spend way too much energy  _avoiding_  the truth."

He couldn't look away from those piercing hazel eyes. "Why would you do that?"

Noah's voice dropped to a fierce, bitter whisper. "Because I don't want anybody to see how much I want to get in your pants."

Kurt opened his mouth to refute this absurd statement, but all that came out was a breathy moan. He covered his mouth with his hand.

Noah tore his gaze away. "God, Kurt, I'm sorry... I'm really fucking trying here. Can you at least trust that I don't want to take advantage of you?"

Kurt nodded wordlessly. He cleared his throat. "I... yes. I trust that."

"Yeah. Now I just have to convince myself." Noah stood up, swung his backpack over his shoulder, and left the choir room without looking back.

Kurt's hand slipped from his mouth to land on his chest, feeling his erratic breathing, his pounding heart. He closed his eyes, overwhelmed with the sensations inspired by Noah's words  _I want to get in your pants._

Because, okay, he knew Noah cared about him. He might even say he loved him, in his own way. But he hadn't  _really_ realized before that moment that Noah wanted him, the way he wanted Noah. Even worse: Noah knew, just as well as Kurt did, what a horrible,  _terrible_  idea it was for them to do anything about it.

* * *

Luckily, Kurt's life wasn't entirely about Noah. Cheerios, Glee and family drama kept him well distracted from his nonexistent love life. And strangely enough, one of the things that was most distracting was something both he and Noah had in common.

"Finn," Noah said to Kurt one day before Glee. Kurt looked at him expectantly. He sighed. "Finn has no idea that his mom's in love with your dad, does he?"

"I don't know if he's exactly come to terms with it, no," Kurt hedged. "But he'll have to eventually. It's not really his call who his mother dates, is it?"

"No, but you've got to realize it takes Finn a while to think things through. If she springs this on him, he's going to have a full-scale freak out."

Kurt considered this. "I could ask him for some feedback on redecorating the basement. I mean, if we're going to be sharing it eventually..."

"No," Noah snapped, rubbing his forehead. " _No._  That's exactly what you  _shouldn't_  do."

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "Since when are you an expert on how to deal with Finn? I remember what happened with Quinn. I think I've got this handled."

"Whatever." Noah held up his hands. "It's your funeral."

But as Kurt laid the groundwork for Carole's makeover, he could see that Noah had a point. Finn didn't want to let anything go from his old life with his dad, even though he'd never actually met him. He remembered how well the ballad had worked for Finn, and went looking for a song he could sing that would help Finn let go of his dad's memory.

Unfortunately, every song Kurt found just made him weepy and sentimental for Noah, and  _that_  annoyed him to no end. He and Noah had had a friendship - a dysfunctional one, admittedly, but one he'd cherished nonetheless. Now when they talked, all he could do was think about kissing him. It was infuriating.

"What do you do when love is more stupid than pleasant?" he asked Mercedes at lunch one day. She smiled in anticipation.

"Tell your best friend all about him?" she suggested. He gave her a withering look. "Okay... tell him to leave you alone?"

"He already is," said Kurt glumly. "That's part of the stupid. But, really, no. I know I should stop thinking about him and move on, but I haven't figured out how to do that yet."

"Are you sure he wants to?" she asked, and he nodded emphatically. "Can you avoid him?"

"Not really. I tried that too, but he kind of keeps... showing up." Kurt played with his peeled celery. "Avoiding him just makes me miss him more."

Mercedes looked hard at him. "Are you talking about Finn? Because, boy, you've got to put that torch down  _now._ "

"I'm not," Kurt protested, flushing. Mercedes would never understand about Noah.

But when he sang his song in Glee, he could see Noah's suspicious glance over at Finn, and the jealousy that bloomed there was not completely unwelcome.

[ _http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bm7QWe-kJb8_ ](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bm7QWe-kJb8)

_A room is still a room, even when there's nothing there but gloom_  
_But a room is not a house, and a house is not a home_  
_When the two of us are far apart  
_ _And one of us has a broken heart_

_Now and then I call your name_  
_And suddenly your face appears_  
_But it's just a crazy game  
_ _And when it ends, it ends in tears_

Noah's phone call that night was the first they'd had in over a month. Kurt tried to keep the annoyance out of his voice when he picked up. "What?"

"What happened to helping Finn get over his freak-out about your parents dating?" Noah sounded pretty pissed off himself. "Because from where I was sitting, it looked more like you were coming on to him."

"What do you care?" Kurt snapped back. "I'm doing the best I can." He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Noah. I'm a little on edge. I haven't had a solid meal all week, and these Cheerios rehearsals..."

"Why aren't you eating?" Now Noah was suspicious. "You sick or something?"

"For your information, Coach Sylvester has instructed me to lose weight, or we're off the squad."

"What a bunch of bullshit. Kurt, you don't need to lose any weight."

Kurt squeezed his hips miserably. "Well, according to her and her scale, I do."

Noah's voice softened. "Hey. Trust me, you look perfect."

He squeezed his eyes shut against the compliment. "It doesn't matter. I have to measure up to the Cheerios' standards, and me and Mercedes, we're not cutting it. I'm not good enough for my  _dad_ , or for  _Mr. Schue,_ or the  _coach,_  or -" He stopped himself before he added  _for you._

"Fuck that, Kurt. And don't tell me your dad wants you to lose weight."

"No, it's not that." Kurt stared across the room at the desk, where  _Ender's Shadow_  sat, untouched, for the last six weeks. "He's taking Finn to a Browns game. Everything's so easy with him, apparently, because they like sports. Now he gets to have the son he always wanted."

Noah sighed. "Whatever. I was calling to see if maybe you wanted to read a little, but it sounds like you're just going to have a pity party for yourself. Never mind that your dad loves you just fine."

"Noah, I -"

"No, forget it. I'll talk to you later."

Kurt stared at the silent phone, uncertain if he should feel angry or hurt.  _I miss you,_  he should have said.  _Can't we just be friends again? Why does this have to be so complicated?_  But Noah's brush-off was clear. He didn't want to talk, so Kurt ignored his empty stomach and his aching heart and went to bed.

* * *

Kurt cornered Mercedes after the pep rally. "What was that?" he exclaimed, hugging her. "When did you guys rehearse  _Beautiful?_  That definitely wasn't the routine we'd practiced. You sounded amazing."

"Funny thing," she said, smiling oddly. "I got a phone call from Puck."

"From -  _Puck?"_  Kurt stared at her in consternation. "What did he say?"

"He talked about how Quinn had been feeling bad about her body since Sue kicked her off the Cheerios. How she was perfect just the way she was, and we needed to cheer her up." She tilted her head. "The strange thing is, Quinn talked to me, too, on her own. She seemed pretty confident about her weight. I don't think it was about Quinn at all."

"Oh." Kurt avoided her eyes, shrugging. "The school loved it, anyway. And who knows about Puck, right?"

When Kurt got home that day, he picked up  _Ender's Shadow_  and set it next to him while he made himself a nice, thick peanut butter sandwich. While he ate, he called Noah.

"You're not very subtle," he said, wiping his mouth on a napkin. "Mercedes knew the song wasn't about Quinn."

"You're welcome." Kurt could hear his grin. "I got an awesome thank-you from her, anyway, so who cares who it was about?"

He shivered. "I probably don't want to hear details about that thank-you. You'll have to live with a verbal one from me."

"Yeah, probably not." Noah paused. "We haven't been doing a very good job of being friends lately, huh?"

"No." Kurt touched the cover of the book. "Do you think we can try again? Because friends is all we're going to be, all right?"

"I know." Noah sounded resigned. "I know you want more than I've got to give. So... yeah, friends. I guess I can be cool with that."

Kurt opened the book, finishing the last of his sandwich with satisfaction. "Thank you. We still have eight chapters left. And after we're done... we'll talk about what comes next."

* * *

What came next, apparently, involved Noah losing all his popularity status. Kurt watched Jacob Ben Israel harassing Noah at lunch with bemusement.

"Who would have known bad-assness was tied to one's haircut?" he said to Mercedes. She shook her head.

"I don't get it either. But Puck's been following me around, saying all kinds of nice things - or at least, I think they were meant to be nice." She made a face. "He's sweet, in an offensive sort of way."

"I know what you mean," Kurt said. "So it doesn't bother you that he just wants to use you for your popularity?"

Mercedes smiled. "I don't know, Kurt. I mean, sure, he's using me. I don't have any illusions about that. But I think there's more, too." She gazed across the room at Noah. "I think he's lonely. He could use a friend. Somebody's who's not so crazy obsessed with playing the popularity game."

Kurt swallowed his unease. "Yeah... like he's going to find anybody like that in high school."

He watched Noah try to woo Mercedes all week, trying not to feel jealous, but it wasn't easy to see Mercedes getting all that attention. When he sang to her in Glee, it was all he could do not to stomp out of the room.

"That was incredible," Mercedes gushed to Kurt afterwards, walking with him to Cheerios practice. "I didn't know Puck could dance like that."

"Yeah. He was amazing."

"It doesn't bother you, does it?" she asked.

He huffed. "Why would it bother me? You deserve the attention."

"I don't know. You just seem a little down lately. Do you know what song you're singing for your solo in Glee?"

Kurt thought about his dad appearing at school to take Finn to a Reds game. "It's supposed to be something that represents me. I guess I'm having trouble knowing what that is anymore. Nobody seems to appreciate me for me."

"Hey, Kurt, that's not true." Mercedes took his arm, halting his hurrying steps. "Don't say that. You're fabulous."

He let her hug him, but it was small comfort.  _The only boy who's ever told me that is currently dating you. Maybe it's time to give up on boys._

* * *

Kurt wasn't surprised to receive Noah's text after he sang  _Little Pink Houses_  in Glee. He hurried out to his Navigator, hating the sensation of the scratchy flannel collar against his neck.  _Who the fuck was that supposed to be, hummel? cause it sure didnt look like you._

 _Reinventing myself,_  he replied.  _What do you care, anyway? Brittany likes me just fine this way._

He'd seen Noah staring at him the whole time he'd been singing, like he was waiting for Kurt to stop and shout "Just kidding!" It hadn't felt completely impossible, becoming a carbon copy of his dad. And Brittany's attention afterwards had made him smile. He thought he might be able to pull it off, if somebody else wanted him when he was That Kurt.

_You dont want to date brit._

_You don't get to tell me what I want, Noah._

His phone rang as he was climbing into the car. "Make it quick," said Kurt tersely. "I have a date."

"I know why you're doing this, Kurt," Noah said. "And I know it's not you. If you were going to settle for anybody, it should be me."

"Noah," Kurt pleaded.

"And you're not  _going_  to settle for me," he went on. "So you've got to hang on, until the right guy finds you. Understand? You deserve better than this."

"I don't know if that matters if I'm this lonely," he replied, fighting the tears that threatened. "Better to be somebody else if nobody wants me the way I am."

" _I_ do," Noah shouted.

"Not enough to  _show_  me," Kurt shouted back. "You don't get to pretend you're somebody you're not, either. Just leave it alone."

He listened to Noah breathing hard on the other end. "Fine," he said. "Enjoy your date."

"I will." Kurt thumbed off his phone, tossing it on the seat next to him, and wiped his eyes on his flannel sleeve. He wasn't at all sure he would enjoy it, really, but he wasn't going to let Noah get the last word.

The actual kissing turned out to be pleasant enough, but Brittany's root beer lip gloss was kind of weird. He couldn't help asking her, "What do boys' lips taste like?"

"Dip," she said. "Or burgers. Or my armpits."

None of those sounded particularly appealing, but he thought about the fact that Noah's lips had kissed the ones he was kissing, and decided that would have to be enough.

* * *

It wasn't, though. Being the flannel-wearing, Mellencamp-singing straight boy wasn't enough to merit his dad's attention. And watching Santana and Mercedes fight over Noah didn't make him feel any better, either, because he knew Noah would happily settle for dating either of them.

So he changed back into his McQueen shirt and scarf, and sang the song he  _should_  have sung in Glee on the empty auditorium stage. It probably should have felt like giving in, but it didn't. It was simply a relief. Even realizing his dad was there watching didn't matter nearly as much as the experience of getting the words  _out._

[ _http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X3fTygjapFw_ ](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X3fTygjapFw)

_I had a dream, I dreamed it for you, dad_  
_It wasn't for me, dad_  
_And if it wasn't for me  
_ _Then where would you be, Miss Rachel Berry?_

_Well, someone tell me, when is it my turn?_  
_Don't I get a dream for myself?_  
_Starting now it's gonna be my turn_  
_Gangway, world, get off of my runway_  
_Starting now I bat a thousand_  
_This time, boys, I'm taking the bows and_  
_Everything's coming up Kurt  
_ _Everything's coming up Hummel_

It hurt to hear his dad say it was easier with Finn, just because he was straight. But he also heard all the things his dad hadn't said, including  _I love you just as much as I would if you weren't gay,_  and that eased the hurt somewhat. His dad's hug helped, too. Because he really did miss him. He'd been keeping everything he'd been feeling about Noah inside, unwilling to let it out because he was ashamed to admit he was still holding a torch for the boy who'd never come out - the boy who wouldn't choose him over being ordinary.

But as he and Burt walked out of the auditorium, they nearly collided with Noah. Kurt stepped back, startled. Noah was more than startled; he looked like he might be scared enough to take off.

"Oh - hey there," said Burt, glancing back and forth between Noah and Kurt. "Kurt, I'll meet you at home, all right? Take your time. We can get those sandwiches whenever you're ready."

Noah barely acknowledged Burt's presence. He didn't take his eyes off of Kurt. Kurt felt his face go red, but he nodded at his dad, waving him away. Burt, thankfully, took the hint.

"Noah," Kurt began, but Noah drove him back into the auditorium, letting the door fall closed behind him. He ran his eyes all the way down Kurt's body and back up again, making him flinch.

"I heard you," Noah said, his voice hoarse. "Singing in here... you sounded fucking amazing."

Kurt took a deep breath, trying to gather his wits. " _That's_ what you're thinking right now? Because you  _really_  look like you want to eat me for dessert."

Noah took a couple steps back, scowling at the floor. "No. I mean,  _yeah,_  but... fuck." He cast an appeal at Kurt with his eyes. "You  _were_  really good. I'm not lying. But I guess I didn't expect... just, listening to you from the hallway, after the way you've been dressing all week, I didn't think you'd look... like this."

"Yeah, I'm kind of giving up on being somebody else. As much as it might suck to be me sometimes, I don't think it was working very well for me." He watched Noah warily. "What exactly do you see, that you didn't expect?"

Noah crossed his arms, clutching his own elbows. "I can't tell you what I'm really thinking, Kurt."

"Why not?" Kurt said.

Noah flicked his eyes back up to Kurt's face again, like a lash. "We're keeping it PG, remember?"

Kurt nodded, but he found himself opening his mouth, saying the words, "Tell me anyway."

Noah's eyes widened a fraction. "Kurt..."

"All week, I've been feeling... unloveable. Not good enough for anybody. I know it's a bad idea, but I just... today, I need to hear that's not true." He reached out a hand. "Tell me."

Noah's hand shook as he took Kurt's, squeezing it tight, almost tight enough to hurt. For a moment, Kurt's heart stood still.

"Please," Kurt whispered.

"I don't have words," Noah whispered back. "No words for what you do to me. Every day, watching you. How can you think you're not loved when I... feel this way?"

Kurt let his eyes fall shut and pulled on Noah's hand, and he felt Noah's arms go around him and hold him close. He remembered this sensation, from those few times in the past when Noah had hugged him, but now it was exquisitely different.

"You... want me?" he asked, barely daring to believe it.

Noah's answer was to drop his hands to Kurt's ass and grip him firmly, wedging Kurt's hips against his own. Kurt gasped, feeling pressure, hot and hard, along his thigh.

"You feel that?" Noah demanded.

"Yes," hissed Kurt.

"Yeah." Noah ran a finger along the seam of Kurt's jeans, where the curve of his ass met his thigh. Kurt's hips thrust forward involuntarily, wanting more, but not knowing how to ask for it. " _That's_  what you do to me, Kurt. Every... fucking... day."

Kurt didn't know if he should say  _I'm sorry,_  or  _I want you too,_ but no words came out. He just clutched Noah tighter, not wanting the moment to end.

"I try to keep it under control, you know? But I'm a dude... I've got needs." He squeezed Kurt's ass in the palm of one broad hand, and Kurt whined, digging his fingers into Noah's back. "And god, the things I want when I'm around you."

"Yeah?" Kurt was more than a little embarrassed about how much he liked hearing what Noah was saying, and the way he was touching him... Noah ground up against Kurt again, and he gasped again, clutching at the solid strength of him.

"What I could show you... how I could make you  _feel..._  if you'd let me." His fingers tightened once more, and then Noah let him go. The loss was palpable, and Kurt staggered, his body yearning immediately to feel him again. He reached for Noah, but Noah shook his head, his expression hardening.

"I told you," he said. "You deserve so much more than  _this._  And I can't use you - I can't let myself do that. Not with you. With you... I have to believe I can be better than that."

Kurt wanted to argue. He wanted to stomp and cry and demand that Noah  _use him,_  dammit, that he get  _right back here_  and keep doing exactly what he was doing with his hands and his hips. Instead he nodded, sinking back against the wall of the auditorium, and let Noah turn around and walk away.

* * *

It was a week later, in the middle of Kurt doing his homework, that Noah called him. Kurt stared at his phone for a moment, disbelieving what he was seeing, and then picked up. "Hello?"

"Hey," Noah said. Kurt waited for more, but that was all.

"Did you... dial the right number?" he tried.

"Kurt," Noah sighed. "Can't I just call you for no reason?"

"Uh,  _no."_  He closed his history textbook and pushed back from his desk. "I mean, you haven't, kind of ever. I'm not saying you can't."

"Yeah. I guess I'm feeling kind of crappy about what Bryan Ryan said today in Glee."

Kurt couldn't disagree. Hearing Mr. Ryan tell them that he was cutting Glee club's funding was bad enough, but the declaration that none of them would achieve their dreams had felt like a punch in the gut. "Don't tell me it was a surprise to you. We're probably going to end up in Ohio for the rest of our lives, just like our parents."

"But I can't believe that," Noah insisted.

"Yeah," Kurt said. "Me, either."

There was more silence. Somehow, though, it didn't feel too awkward, even with the memory of Noah's body pressed against his own fresh in his mind. Kurt reached out and picked up  _Ender's Shadow._

"If you want," he said, "I could believe in your dream for you. Because, really, if there's anybody in Glee club who's going to get out of this town, it's you, Noah."

Noah laughed. "You really think that? Not Berry? Or you?"

"No. I think it'll be you. Because I see how talented you are, and because of your dad. He's not going to let you fail, not if you want it."

"Well." He sounded embarrassed. "There's a lot of things I want. Doesn't mean I'm going to get them."

"I know," Kurt said softly. He opened the book to the page where they'd stopped, weeks ago. "Just because you're not going to get them doesn't mean you should stop wanting them."

"It'd be easier."

"Sure. You let me know if you figure out how to do that, okay?"

He laughed again. "Well, if you're going to believe in my dream, maybe I can believe in yours. You got one you want to tell me about?"

Kurt closed his eyes briefly, letting the sensation of Noah in his arms play across his imagination. "I'll get back to you on that. In the meantime... you up for a little Battle School?"

"I was hoping you might say that," said Noah, with a satisfied sigh.

* * *

The funk persisted, though, long after Bryan Ryan was gone. Walking into the choir room and finding Vocal Adrenaline's toilet-paper wrapped gift didn't help, either. Everybody was pissed off after that, a kind of ongoing malaise that kept their creativity at an all-time low.

Kurt didn't quite realize what had happened until one Tuesday after Glee, when Noah tossed his keys across the room to Finn. "You drive," he called to him.

He watched Noah and Finn disappear together before sending him a text.  _Is Finn going with you to theater club now?_

 _Hell no,_  Noah replied.  _I had to quit going. me and finn are working, to pay for the tires we slashed on VA's range rovers._

Kurt was both relieved and appalled.  _You didn't._

_Yeah, we did. and I'd do it again. those carmel snobs deserved it._

_Where are you working?_

Noah didn't reply for a few minutes.  _sheets and things. and stop fucking laughing, kurt._

 _I'm not laughing!_  Kurt replied, attempting to control himself.

_No, I know its totally lame. you should see the uniform we have to wear. only two more weeks and itll be paid off. still, too late to do the show this spring with the theater club._

_I'm really sorry,_  he typed, honestly.

_Yeah. its okay. me and finn and mercedes, weve got something awesome for glee next week. itll make you laugh, anyway._

_Yeah? Now I'm curious._

_Youll have to wait and see,_  Noah replied. Kurt bugged him to tell him more, but Noah didn't divulge any more details.

They were back to reading every night on the phone, and they were nearly finished with the book. Kurt watched the number of pages remaining diminish at the same time his anxiety increased. He didn't want to stop reading, but he'd run out of ideas.

Finally he went to the mall to look for a new book. He didn't really mean to wander down to Sheets'N'Things, but somehow he ended up there anyway.

He saw Finn first, stocking a shelf of silverware sorters. Noah hadn't been kidding about the awful uniforms. Finn looked like he wasn't sure if he should be glad to see Kurt or not.

"Can I help you find anything?" he asked - rather gallantly, Kurt thought. He grinned, shaking his head.

"I'm not really shopping. I was just here to get a book."

Finn looked confused. "I don't think we have any books here, but I can check."

Kurt took the book he'd purchased out of the bag and held it up. "No, I mean at the bookstore. For Noah. I've been tutoring him in English since last year."

"You have?" Finn's eyes widened. "Wait a second.  _You're_  the girl Kurt that Sarah's always going on about?"

Kurt felt himself blush. He wondered if he should try to lie, but he decided trying to make up a believable story would be worse than just telling the truth. "Yes. And, as I keep trying to tell her, not a girl."

"No, I know, just... wow." Finn looked at him curiously. "I thought... never mind."

"What?" Kurt asked, but Finn just shook his head.

"Don't try to get any info out of my boy here," Kurt heard, and turned to see Noah approaching in an identically awful Sheets'N'Things uniform. He put an arm around Finn. "He's not telling, either."

"Telling about what?" Finn said nervously. "I wasn't telling anything."

"About what we're doing with Mercedes." Noah gave Kurt a sharp glance. "Wasn't that what you were here for?"

"No, he bought you a book," said Finn. Noah's eyes went to the book in Kurt's hands, and he grabbed it.

"There's another one?" he exclaimed, turning it over to read the back of  _Shadow of the Hegemon._  "You're shitting me. I thought the series was done. This is awesome."

Finn's expression was growing more and more perplexed with every moment. "Since when do you care about books, dude?"

"Fuck you," Noah said mildly, not taking his eyes off the book. "There's exceptions to every rule, right?"

"I guess?" Finn shrugged, looking back at Kurt. "You wanted to know about the funk song we're doing with Mercedes?"

That got Noah's attention. He shoved Finn with one elbow. "Way to spoil the surprise, dickhead!"

"Hey," Finn protested. "Whatever." Then he grinned at Kurt. "I get to dance."

"I can't wait," Kurt said, raising an eyebrow. "I'll leave you guys to your... whatever it is you do here."

* * *

Their rendition of  _Good Vibration_  with Mercedes was, Kurt thought, fantastic. He got to stare unabashedly at Noah in a tank top for an extended period of time, and no one thought anything of it. But he texted Noah after school instead of calling, knowing he'd be driving to work with Finn, and not wanting to make things any more complicated than he had.

 _I'm kind of speechless,_  he typed, walking to his car.

 _Good speechless or bad?_  Noah responded.

_Oh, good, definitely. Not my kind of music, by any stretch of the imagination, but I can appreciate the effort. I thought Mr. Schue was kind of underwhelmed, though._

_He just said it wasnt really funk. he didnt say he didnt like it. so you thought we were hot?_

Kurt blushed, embarrassed even though no one was there to see it.  _You know what I think._

_No i dont. youve never said._

_Noah, you know you're gorgeous. Why do you need me to tell you?_

_You dont think i care what you think? come on kurt. who do you think I was dancing for? quinn?_

Kurt felt his heart skip. He opened the door and climbed in, sitting there behind the wheel with his hand on his thigh. Then he closed his eyes and recalled every detail of Noah's dynamic performance, his breath picking up.

 _Okay,_  he sent.  _Yes. You were really hot._

_Me dancing, that gets you off huh?_

Kurt made a little squeak. He ran his hands down his legs before responding.  _What are we doing here, Noah?_

_I just want to know. you asked me, the other day. maybe i need to hear it sometimes too._

He took a deep breath.  _Yes,_  he said.  _You definitely do that._

_You think about me when you do it?_

"Noah," he muttered. "God."His thumb moved slowly on the keyboard.  _Yes._ He paused before adding,  _I think about you every time._

 _Fuck,_  was Noah's only response. Kurt leaned back in the seat of the Navigator, idling in the nearly-empty parking lot, glancing anxiously around for anybody who might be watching. He let his hand move onto his own hard cock, giving it some pressure, and sighed. But Noah didn't text him back, and eventually Kurt put the car into drive and went home.

* * *

He wondered if Noah might not call him that night, but he did.

"Second to last chapter," Kurt said nervously.

"Yeah, great," said Noah. "Thanks for getting the next book. I looked it up online. There are another two after that,  _Shadow Puppets_ and  _Shadow of the Giant."_

"Oh?" Kurt said, although he'd already ordered them from the bookstore. "I can't wait. It'll give us plenty to read over the summer. Assuming you're not getting sick of them already."

"No way. I don't think I could ever get sick of this." His voice was soft. "I'm... glad you think about me."

Kurt cringed, hiding his face in his hand. "God. I can't believe I told you that."

"It's true, right? I mean, you weren't making it up."

"No." He sighed. "I never... before I met you that summer, during  _Grease._  I didn't, at all."

"Really? You never jacked off before you met me?" Noah sounded entirely too pleased with himself.

"Yeah. You broke me. Congratulations."

"Hey, trust me, I still do it all the time, and I've got plenty of people to do it for me. Don't sweat it." He chuckled, that sexy low sound that always made Kurt shiver. "After you told me that, I had to lock myself in the break room for a few minutes and take care of things."

 _Noah Puckerman, masturbating while thinking about me._  It was almost incomprehensible that that might happen. He swallowed on a dry throat. "Uh... sorry?"

"Definitely not the first time, Kurt."

"Oh," he said, feeling dizzy. "Noah..."

"I know. Just... information, okay? Not trying to get you to do anything."

 _Do what?_  he wanted so much to ask, just to see where it would lead, but he thought that was definitely irresponsible on his part. "All right. Do you... want me to read now?"

"Probably a good idea," Noah said. He sounded a little breathless, and  _god_ , that was way hotter than it had any right to be, but now Kurt's imagination was going overtime.

"Have you ever...?" he blurted, and bit his lip.

"Ever what?"

Kurt sighed. "Never mind."

"You'd better ask, or I'm just going to wonder about it all night."

"No, really, Noah, I shouldn't have... you made it very clear you had boundaries here, and I need to respect them, even if you..."

Noah sounded annoyed. "Even if I  _what?"_

"Even if you don't," Kurt snapped.

"Hey, I think you're the one who crossed a boundary when you admitted to thinking about me when you beat off," said Noah. "For  _two years._ "

"I can't control what I think about," he protested. "How is that crossing a boundary? And you asked  _me."_

"You told me," Noah shot back. " _Every time?_  Yeah, tell me that wasn't supposed to get me hard. You're just a fucking tease. So go ahead. Whatever it is, ask me. I'll tell you anything you want to know."

Kurt sat there, breathing hard, feeling so angry and so turned on, and not knowing what to do about either one. "Fine," he said at last. "Tell me. Did you ever do that when I was reading to you?"

"Do what? Beat off? To the sound of your voice?"

He flinched. "Yeah," he whispered. Then, stronger, he repeated, "Yeah. That. Did you?"

"No. But fuck if I'm not thinking about doing it right now. Why? Did you?"

"No!" Kurt exclaimed. "I wouldn't... while I was  _reading?_  You would have been able to tell."

Noah laughed. It wasn't a very nice laugh. " _That's_  why you didn't?" His voice dropped to a seductive murmur. "I think you would want me to be able to tell. Huh? You'd want me to know you were -"

"Stop," Kurt cried out, and Noah did.

"Fuck it," Noah muttered, and hung up. Kurt sat there, hugging himself, trying not to cry, for several long minutes before his arousal subsided to a dull ache. He tried to find a way to twist things around to blame them on Noah, but the more he thought about it, the more he came back to what he'd said, what he'd done.

He couldn't bring himself to call Noah, but he slowly typed out a text.  _I'm sorry for being a tease._

The reply came quickly.  _My fault. sex shark, right? its not your problem youre so hot._

Kurt shook his head.  _Nobody thinks that about me but you._

Instead of another text reply, his phone rang. "Noah?" he said.

"I'm just the only one you know about," said Noah. "Someday, the guys'll be lining up to ask you out. We just don't have the balls to do it right now. Anyway... I'm sorry for teasing you back. You can think about whatever you want when you jack off."

"Yeah, well," said Kurt, laughing unhappily. "It really is pretty much just you."

"And I really do think that's awesome. I promise, I'm not touching anything other than my pillow. Would you read to me now?"

"Okay," he agreed.

Kurt felt himself relaxing as the chapter wound to a close. They sat there in silence at the end.

"I don't know how to stop pulling stunts like that," said Noah. "But I really like being your friend, so thanks for putting up with my shit."

"It's mutual," Kurt told him. He put the bookmark in at the last chapter. "I look forward to it every day. All of it."

"So... I'm hanging up now. No promises as to what I might or might not do after that."

"Noah..." he warned.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm going. Good night, Kurt."

Kurt put his phone down on the nightstand on top of the book, turned the light out, and tucked his hand into his pajama pants. It was almost routine, now, almost every night before he went to sleep, thinking of Noah... but knowing that Noah knew Kurt was doing it, or might be doing it himself, and thinking about  _Kurt,_  made it significantly more erotic. There was no point in trying to ignore that.

 _But if Noah knows what I'm doing,_  he thought drowsily, just before he fell asleep,  _and there's no point in ignoring that he knows... why exactly aren't we doing it together?_  The answer seemed so obvious in his half-awake state, but by the time he woke up the next morning, he'd lost it again.

* * *

<http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zy4VL0Aq4QI>

_We talked up all night and came to no conclusion_  
_We started a fight that ended in silent confusion_  
_And as we sat stuck you could hear the trash truck_  
_Making its way through the neighborhood_  
_Picking up the thrown out different from house to house_  
_We get to decide what we think is no good_

_We're sculpted from youth, the chipping away makes me weary_  
_And as for the truth it seems like we just pick a theory_  
_The one that justifies our daily lives_  
_And backs us with quiver and arrows_  
_To protect openings cause when the warring begins_  
_How quickly the wide open narrows_

_Into the smallness of our deconstruction of love_  
_We thought it was changing, but it never was_  
_It's just the same as it ever was_

_A family of foxes came to my yard and dug in_  
_I looked in a book to see what this could possibly mean_  
_Cause there is fate in the breeze and signs in the trees_  
_Possible tragic events_  
_When forces collide with the damage strewn wide_  
_And holes blasted straight through the fence_

_The sky starts to crash the rain on the roof starts to drumming_  
_And laid out like cash your take on my list of shortcomings_  
_The show starts to close, I know how this goes_  
_The plot a predictable showing_  
_And though it seems grand it's just one speck of sand_  
_And back to the hourglass we're going_

_Back to the smallness of our deconstruction of love_  
_We thought it was changing, but it never was_  
_Our deconstruction of love_

_\- The Indigo Girls, "Deconstruction"_


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here be heavy quoting of scenes from 1x20 Theatricality, as well as - surprise! - angst and Shakespeare. You are forewarned. -amy

 

**Spring 2010**

Kurt got a text from Noah on his way to lunch.  _Saw karofsky shoulder-check you today._

He grimaced.  _He's a Neanderthal with nothing better to do than annoy me, Noah. It's not a big deal._

_Bullshit,_  Noah replied. Kurt set his lunch down next to Mercedes and glanced across the room to the table where Noah was eating with Finn. Noah's eyes were on his phone, and he looked positively pissed.  _I used to treat you that way, and it sucks. dont tell me you dont care._

_You can't take on Karofsky for me. Please, just let it go._

Kurt stared at Noah across the room. Eventually, he looked up at met Kurt's gaze. He sighed, rolling his eyes, and nodded.

_Thank you,_  Kurt added.  _For caring._

"Are you okay, Kurt?" asked Mercedes, looking at him with concern _._  He smiled, trying to focus on what was in front of him.

"I broke some big news to Finn," he said. "About Carole and my dad." His smile grew as she and Tina gasped. "And guess who gets to plan the wedding? It's going to take all my attention. Finn's not at all in favor of the idea of our two families merging." He ate a carrot stick off his tray. "I think Finn's being awfully selfish, considering how much effort my dad made to make him feel welcome at our house."

"I don't know, Kurt." Tina shrugged. "If my parents made me m-move to another house and share a room with another girl, I don't think I'd be very happy about it."

He sniffed. "It's not like the idea of sharing a room with him is all that much of a picnic for me, either."

Kurt decided the best course of action would be to immerse himself in bridal magazines and dress designs and ignore Finn entirely. But then Mr. Schue abruptly threw a curveball at them that changed his plans.

"Gaga?" Noah wrinkled his nose at Schue's mention of the name. "Who's he?"

" _She_  is only the most innovative musician of our generation, Noah," Kurt retorted. "She's an icon and a role model for all of us. You'd do well to pay attention."

Noah ignored him, of course, but Kurt was more than happy to be temporarily distracted by the theatricality of Gaga. He and Tina spent several hours together after dinner putting together their costumes. Kurt didn't even realize how late it had gotten until his phone rang.

_Noah._  Kurt hesitated, glancing at Tina, gluing bubbles to her dress. He considered not picking up and letting it go to voicemail, but he thought that might be worse. He thumbed the answer button. "Hey," he said as casually as he could.

"Kurt, I found the best name for a baby," Noah boasted. "Listen to this -"

"Um, Tina's here," he interrupted. "We're working on our Gaga costumes."

"Oh. Yeah, sure; no problem." Noah sounded disappointed. Kurt found himself feeling irrationally irritated.

"Hey, I don't complain when you have a date," he said. Tina glanced over, looking curious.

"Did I say anything?" said Noah. "I wasn't complaining. And Tina's not a date."

"No, but -"

"You can do anything you want, Kurt."

"Fine. I'll... I'll just talk to you tomorrow. Unless you want me to call later."

"For fuck's sake, Hummel, I don't care, okay?" Now he sounded exasperated.

_You do care,_  Kurt wanted to say.  _Don't pretend you don't._  But he couldn't, with Tina right there, so he just said, "Okay," and hung up.

"Who was that?" she asked.

"It was just Noah."

"You mean Puck?" Tina set her dress down. "What's he doing calling you? You guys aren't friends."

"Yes. I mean... no, not really, but... I've been helping him with his reading for school for a while. We talk on the phone sometimes." He avoided her eyes. "It's not a big deal."

"No? He sounded like he might think it was."

Tina was a lot more intuitive than Mercedes was. He diverted her attention to other matters. She gave him a hug as she gathered her things to go home.

"We're really going to wear these costumes to school?" she said, grinning. "You're not going to chicken out tomorrow or anything? Because I really don't want to be the only one being theatrical."

"Absolutely," he promised. "I'll be there with my wig on and everything."

Her grin turned crafty. "And you're going to call Puck back?"

"Sure," he said, trying to sound offhand. "I mean, maybe."

She nodded. "Mike said Puck had his own ideas about being theatrical. Do you know what they're working on?"

"I can't imagine." But as soon as Tina was out the door, he had his phone in his hand, dialing Noah's number.

"You girls done with your slumber party?" Noah cracked.

"Our costumes are fantastic. What are you guys doing for the assignment?"

"Something way better than stupid Lady Gaga. It's fucking awesome, though, trust me."

"I'm sure." Kurt turned the speakerphone on and quickly undressed for bed. "I suppose Finn told you about the excitement at our collective houses?"

"Yeah, what the hell? Your parents are getting hitched?" He sounded more amused than distressed. "What is that going to make you two - brothers?"

"Step-brothers. Carole put the house on the market last week, and there's already an offer; they started moving things over yesterday." He glanced around the Dior Grey room and sighed. "Looks like I'm going to have to get started on redecorating."

"Uh... you guys are going to be sharing a room?" said Noah.

"Until my dad can put in that addition, yes. We'll manage, I'm sure."

"But what about us?"

Kurt paused in buttoning his pajama top, his skin breaking out in goosebumps. "What about us?" he said softly.

"Reading, like this. You think you're going to do that in front of Finn?" He sounded uneasy.

"He already knows I'm tutoring you, Noah. I'm allowed to have my own life." Kurt picked up the phone and  _Ender's Shadow._ "We're on the last chapter. We can finish this, and then just... stop, for a while, if you want."

"I don't know. Maybe." Noah was silent. "I'll have to think about it. Finn's been acting weird lately, anyway."

Kurt tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach. "Whatever you think is best."

The book ended on a satisfying note, but Kurt's enthusiasm was muted by Noah's anxiety.

"I know you and Finn are friends again, after being mad at each other for so long," he said, "and I don't want to get in the way of that. But I wish you didn't have to feel like you had to pretend around him."

"I'm not pretending. I'm just not telling him everything." He could hear Noah's scowl. "There's a difference."

"You don't think he'd understand?"

"No, Kurt," he snapped. "He wouldn't  _understand._  He'd pretend to be okay with it, but he'd be totally creeped out by the idea of me doing stuff with guys, and he'd ditch me as soon as he could find another friend."

Kurt frowned. "I think you're underestimating him. Finn's not just some guy. Okay... maybe he's not the sharpest crayon in the box, but you've been friends a long time. He hasn't blabbed to all the other guys about your involvement in theater, has he? He'd handle this the same way."

"I don't know what planet you think you're on, Kurt, but I'm pretty sure I'm in Nowheresville, Ohio. You know? Where the jocks tell fag jokes every fucking day?" Noah sounded like he was close to losing it.

"Hey," Kurt said, trying to be soothing. "It's fine. I won't say anything."

"Yeah, I know." Kurt listened as Noah's ragged breathing slowed. Finally he sighed. "All right. G'night."

Kurt wasn't sure if it was really all right or not, but he figured there wasn't much he could do from his bed at ten o'clock at night. "Good night, Noah."

* * *

Walking down the stairs in six-inch silver platform heels was more challenging than Kurt expected, but he managed to get all the way to the first floor without falling on his behind.

"Where did they get those costumes on such short notice?" Tina wondered.

Kurt smiled to himself, but decided not to mention Noah's theater connections to Tina.

"The boys' KISS number was good, but I thought the lyrics left something to be desired," he said. She nodded, her white bubbles bouncing.

"And Finn kept sticking his tongue out, and I couldn't stop picturing him licking stuff," she added. "It was disturbing."

Suddenly, they were face to face with Azimio and Karofsky. "We warned you," said Dave.

"Now Gaga's gotta go," Azimio growled.

They drove Kurt and Tina back against the frosted glass window at the end of the hallway. Kurt cringed, dreading the repair work he was going to have to do on his costume.

" _Hey!"_  came a shout, and Azimio was shoved forward into Kurt, stepping on his shoe. It was Noah, along with Mike and Matt. They'd already taken off their KISS makeup. Finn was nowhere to be seen. Noah glared at the two hockey players. "You think they're fair game just because they dress like freaks?"

"Thanks, Noah," Kurt muttered, giving Azimio a push with both hands and brushing himself off. "That's a lovely show of support."

"That silver shit makes my eyes hurt," Karfosky sneered. "Who said they get to dress that way?"

"I'm pretty sure the dress code doesn't say anything about catering to jock standards of fashion," Kurt retorted. "Who says  _you_  get to make the rules about what's acceptable?"

"I do." Azimio loomed, large and threatening, before Kurt's face. "And you gonna find yourself in a whole mess of trouble if you come to school like that tomorrow. You and your faggot-wannabe boyfriend, too."

Karofsky and Azimio slunk down the hallway while Kurt scrambled on the floor, collecting sequins.

"What the fuck, Kurt?" Noah said in an undertone.

"He's not talking about you; he's talking about Finn. I'm pretty sure he went home to take off his makeup instead of doing it in the bathroom." Kurt gave Mike and Matt a grateful smile. "Thanks."

"You know you're asking for it by coming to school like that," said Noah, shaking his head. "You don't see us walking around in our KISS makeup, do you? I mean, theatricality's supposed to be for the stage, right?"

"If that's how you want to live  _your_  life," Kurt said, defiantly clutching his broken shoe. "I prefer to express myself."

"Yeah, and get beat up by those morons?" Noah followed Karofsky and Azimio's path down the hall with his eyes. "For what?"

"We have a right to be who we are, Puck," said Tina.

He looked her over doubtfully. "Since when are you a bunch of albino grapes? Seriously, why is this worth it?"

Kurt stared him down. "So the next kid who looks a little different - or feels a little different on the inside - doesn't have to be quite so alone at this school. Somebody's got to break ground for people who are still hiding."

He limped past the football players, wearing one shoe and muttering, "Excuse me," and made his awkward way to his car, his pride intact.

* * *

_You're not working at Sheets'N'Things anymore?_  Kurt texted Noah on his way home from the thrift store the next day.

_Nah, finn and me finished paying off the tires last week,_  Noah replied.  _What, are you stalking me or something?_

_I was shopping for accessories for our bedroom. I think Finn's going to like it._

_Yeah, I wouldnt count on it. he was a total bitch rehearsing kiss this week. must be on his period or something._

_You're not being the most accommodating yourself, you know._ Kurt pulled into the driveway behind his dad's car.  _But I should say thank you for intervening with Azimio and Karofsky yesterday._

Kurt didn't say  _I missed talking to you last night,_  or any of the other stupid, wistful sentences that passed through his brain. Nor did Noah respond after that. Kurt didn't push it. He just focused all his energies on making his and Finn's room look fantastic.

But six hours later, he was fumbling for his phone again, stabbing at the call button through tear-filled eyes. He was barely able to respond when Noah picked up.

"Finn - he -" Kurt said, his voice wobbly. "My dad, he threw him out. He said I was a - it wasn't anything, just a fight, but my dad just went off on him -"

"What did he do to you?" Noah demanded. "I swear, if he touched you, I'm going to kill him."

"No! Noah, he didn't." He reached for a tissue, dabbing at his face. "Finn... didn't like the room. He thinks... god, Noah, he thinks I've been making a play for him, this whole time."

"Yeah, Finn wouldn't tolerate a guy hitting on him, not even one as awesome as you." He sounded grim. "Your dad said he couldn't stay there anymore?"

"No. I guess he went back to his house, but there's nothing there, no furniture or anything. Everything's packed." Kurt stifled a sob. "I just... I feel like such an idiot."

"Told you so, " Noah said gently.

"Yeah, you were right all along. Finn doesn't accept this. Accept  _me_. How am I going to tell Carole? This was all my fault."

There was quiet on the other end of the phone while Kurt sat there, crying. He wasn't even sure if Noah was still on the line until he heard him clear his throat. "You want me to come over, or something?"

Kurt was startled into silence. "I... you don't have to do that," he said.

"I know. You want me to?"

He closed his eyes in defeat. "Please."

"Give me ten minutes," said Noah, and disconnected the call.

Kurt washed his face and did the preliminary step to his moisturizing routine before going upstairs to find his dad. He found Burt on the phone, talking quietly, but he said, "I'll call you back," when he saw Kurt.

Burt hung up the receiver, eyeing him. "I'm guessing I shouldn't ask how you're doing."

"Yeah." Kurt gave him a half-smile. "I - um. Noah's coming over."

Burt's eyebrows went up, but he just nodded. "Not too late, okay? Carole's staying with Finn tonight." He rubbed his forehead. "We're going to have to figure something out, or back out on the sale of the house."

"No... dad," Kurt protested, "Finn and me, we can work this out. It wasn't what it looked like."

"Yeah," said Burt heavily. "It was. And I won't put up with that nonsense in my house, Kurt."

Kurt nodded, and watched his dad return to the family room. Then he went out on the front porch and waited until he saw Noah's truck pull up beside the house. The night air was warm and moist, but Kurt still shivered when he saw Noah's expression.

"You look like shit," Noah said, scowling at him. "Is your dad gonna let me in, or do I have to sneak in the back?"

"No, I told him you were coming." He let Noah lead him back inside, with a brief nod of acknowledgement for his dad, and downstairs to his -  _their -_ room. Noah's mouth tightened when he saw the new decor.

"Yeah. And you figured  _this_ wouldn't set Finn off? Fuck, Kurt, did you even  _think?"_

Kurt burst into tears. Noah, sighing, muttered quiet words that might have been comforting, but Kurt didn't hear them; he just turned away, grabbing a pillow off his newly beautified bed and hugging it to his chest as he cried. Noah sat down next to Kurt and laid his hand on his back, moving it slowly up and down in monotonous strokes.

Eventually Kurt's tears subsided, but Noah didn't stop the motion of his hand. Kurt leaned into his touch, letting Noah take more and more of his weight, until finally he was resting back against Noah's chest. He found himself encircled by first one strong arm, then both. Somehow his head turned, pressing against Noah's body. He was warm, and solid, and Kurt realized he absolutely did not want to move from that spot, for any reason.

"Stay," he said, quietly enough that Noah could ignore it if he wanted to.

"Not going anywhere," Noah murmured.

He sat up, afraid to break the spell, that Noah might suddenly realize what they were doing and decide to get up and walk out, but Noah just sat there, looking at Kurt's mouth, his jaw, his forehead, anywhere but his eyes.

"I - should get ready for bed," said Kurt.

Noah nodded. He looked like he might want to say something, but he stayed silent as Kurt took off his tie and vest.

Finn had been right; the privacy partition didn't actually provide much in the way of privacy. He could feel Noah's gaze on him as he unbuttoned his shirt, unzipped his pants and stepped out of his underwear. He wasn't sure how to ask him to look away, or even if he wanted to.

"Can you hand me my pajamas?" he asked, still facing away, his voice coming out high and nervous. "They're under my pillow."

Noah slowly reached over and got the folded pajamas, then rose, carrying them around the privacy partition and passing them to Kurt. Kurt had never been so aware of his own body as he was at that moment, feeling Noah standing just feet away from his naked form. He tensed as Noah stepped toward him.

"Don't," he said, but Noah made a  _shhhh_  noise, and Kurt fell silent, letting him close the distance between them. He took a breath as Noah's hands touched his bare shoulders, and let it out slowly as those hands tightened, digging in with his thumbs.

"I'm not going to do anything," Noah said, his voice low. "I'm just here for you. To be - your friend."

"But you're not," said Kurt.

"I'm not what?"

Kurt tried to say  _not my friend,_  but he opened his mouth and a low groan escaped as Noah found a sore spot. Noah chuckled.

"Not... just my friend," Kurt said. "As much as we might have tried to keep it like that, you never have been."

Noah slid his arms around Kurt's bare chest, cradling Kurt's naked body from behind. "No," he murmured. "I always wanted more. Even before I knew you."

Kurt let his head rest back against the crook of Noah's shoulder, feeling with exquisite sensitivity every point where Noah's body touched his. He was pretty sure Noah was hard, as hard as he was himself, but Noah wasn't making any move to rub up against him; he was just standing there. Kurt felt reassured by that. He felt... safe.

Kurt turned his head to the side, just far enough so that his breath warmed Noah's chin, and he heard Noah's breath catch.

"Do you still?" whispered Kurt. "Want more?"

"God, Kurt," whispered Noah in return. "Do you even have to ask that?"

Kurt raised one hand, reaching back past his own cheek to touch Noah's face. He felt his stubble, the softer texture of the short hair on his scalp. Noah caught Kurt's hand in his, then pressed it to his lips.

"You'd better put your pajamas on, though," he added. "I might not be able to resist you a whole lot longer if you stay like that."

"Yeah." Kurt laughed nervously. "I... might not ask you to."

He edged out of Noah's embrace, slipping the pajamas on. There was a whole new layer of awareness between them when he turned around to face Noah, something tentative and fragile, but that hinted at possibilities that hadn't been there five minutes ago. Noah looked back, watching Kurt, not making any moves, just waiting.

"You're sure it's okay?" Kurt asked. "For you to stay."

Noah nodded. "Long as you don't think your dad's gonna kick me out, too."

"I'm not counting on him coming down here tonight." He indicated the bed meant for Finn. "You can sleep there."

Noah looked at him steadily. "If that's what you want."

Kurt met his gaze. "No," he said. "Not really. But... you can, if you'd rather."

Noah moved to sit on Kurt's bed, kicking off his boots. He unbuttoned his worn jeans and abandoned them on the floor, leaving only his t-shirt and briefs. Then he looked up at Kurt. "Think I'd rather be here, if that's okay."

"Yeah," whispered Kurt. "Definitely okay."

Kurt turned down the covers on his bed, uncertain about how to proceed, but Noah climbed in first, moving over to one side to make room for Kurt. Trembling, he slipped under the sheets, his feet brushing against Noah's bare legs.

"I really don't think I'll be able to sleep with you here next to me," he said.

"Yeah, you will. But..." Noah reached across him to take  _Shadow of the Hegemon_  off the nightstand. Kurt felt a wave of tingling dizziness at the scent of Noah, and the momentary pressure of Noah's hard cock against his hip before he shifted back to lie beside him again. "Let's do this first."

"Read to you?" Kurt said. He smiled. "Really?"

"It's either that or I recite Shakespeare to you until you fall asleep," said Noah.

"Oh." Kurt's smile widened, feeling almost too good for words. "I actually don't know which one I'd rather do."

"Start with this," he said, tapping the book. "I've been kind of missing Locke and Demosthenes."

Kurt sat up a little, Noah tucking an arm under his neck, and he read the first couple pages while Noah listened. Slowly, Kurt's tension faded. When he yawned, Noah took the book out of his hands, setting it back on the nightstand and shutting off the lamp. Then he tightened his arm around Kurt, coaxing him closer.

Kurt wasn't sure what to do with his legs, but it seemed like Noah wanted him to lie down kind of on top of him, so Kurt hesitantly put one knee over his. He heard Noah's soft sigh.

"Yeah," he said. "Like that. Can you put your head there, on my shoulder?"

Kurt rested one tentative hand on Noah's chest, smoothing the fabric of his t-shirt, not quite believing how good it felt. "Is this okay?"

"Yeah," Noah said again. Kurt tensed briefly as his own hardness pressed up against Noah's leg, but Noah didn't mention it, and Kurt sure as hell wasn't going to bring it up.

Noah put his hand on top of Kurt's, on his chest, and their fingers intertwined. "This is the first time I've ever done this with a guy. Slept in a bed together like this."

"Really?" said Kurt, a little breathless. "I'm a little surprised you have any first times left."

"A lot of them, actually. With guys, anyway. Things are different with guys."

Kurt couldn't disagree with that, even speaking from his own limited experience. But he had to ask, anyway: "In what ways are they different, do you think?"

Noah was silent for a moment. Then, quietly, he began to recite:

"There is no woman's sides  
Can bide the beating of so strong a passion  
As love doth give my heart; no woman's heart  
So big, to hold so much. They lack retention.  
Alas, their love may be called appetite,  
No motion of the liver, but the palate,  
That suffer surfeit, cloyment, and revolt.  
But mine is all as hungry as the sea,  
And can digest as much. Make no compare  
Between that love a woman can bear me  
And that I owe... you."

Kurt felt the beating of his own heart along with Noah's, under his hand, and he held his breath. "Me?"

"Close your eyes, babe. Try to sleep."

He couldn't conceive of sleep with Noah there, warm and firm under his cheek, but he closed his eyes anyway, trying to drink in every last sensation of Noah's body, his scent, the movement of his limbs, his gentle breath.

And then he blinked, and his alarm was going off in the dim light of morning. He sat up hurriedly, feeling the empty space beside him in his bed, still warm.

"Noah?" he said softly.

"I'm here," he heard, and he turned to see Noah sitting at his dressing table, tying his boots. He gazed at Kurt with a sober expression. "You okay? I mean... are we okay?"

"Yes. Of course." Kurt imagined standing, going over to Noah, tugging him to his feet and pressing their lips together. For the first time, it seemed not only possible, but - acceptable. Even probable. But he waited where he was, giving Noah space to adjust to the change between them. Maybe Noah didn't feel it. Maybe, for him, everything was the same as it had been before he had spent the night in Kurt's bed, holding him in his arms. Kurt took a shuddering breath. "Yes," he repeated. "We're fine. Thank you. For staying."

"Yeah. No problem." Noah stood, his eyes resting on Kurt for a moment before he turned and headed for the stairs. "I'll see you at school."

* * *

Kurt couldn't bear to deal with text after hearing Noah sing  _Beth_  in Glee club that afternoon. He called him as soon as he got to his car. "You sounded amazing," he said. "Really, it was all I could do not to start crying right there. I think you really touched Quinn."

"Thanks," said Noah gruffly. "Uh... so I'm going over to Finn's house."

"Oh. You could... call me back later, if you want."

"Yeah, I'll do that. Anything you want me to tell him?"

Kurt hesitated. "If you want, tell him... I believe him when he says he is different. But he's got to prove it before I'll forgive him."

"I can tell him that. Later."

Kurt sat with the words  _I love you_  on his tongue, tasting them, feeling the possibility he'd never seriously entertained becoming a reality. He didn't speak them, but they remained there all evening, and long into the night.

Noah didn't call back.

* * *

Kurt almost didn't bother to put on his theatricality outfit the next day, even though he'd agreed with the rest of Glee to show up to rehearsal in costume. He felt heavy, all his movements laborious after his fitful sleep. The room felt different with the new decor, but more important than that was the sensation of his bed being far too empty.

But Tina was planning to be there at school, back in full Goth regalia at last, and Kurt couldn't bring himself to let her down. He dressed quickly in the locker room and hurried down the hall toward Glee - only to be stopped by Azimio and Karofsky.

"You really never learn, do you, Hummel," Azimio said, shaking his head. "I thought we got through to you, but I guess gay and stupid just come together."

Karofsky sneered. "Really a shame, Fancy. I had a bet with Lipoff that you'd cave and wear regular clothes today. You cost me five bucks."

"Fine," he shot back, not bothering to hide his tears. "You want to beat me up, go ahead. But I swear to you, I will never change. I'm proud to be different. It's the best thing about me. So go ahead. Hit me."

"I believe I will. Sir." Azimio tapped Karofsky on the chest. "Would you like to go first?"

"You're not hitting anyone," came Finn's voice, strong and confident. Kurt turned - and blinked at the apparition before him. Finn stood there in the hallway behind the hockey players, dressed in an elaborate crimson ball gown and spangled mask, his hands on his hips and his face grim.

"Oh my god," Kurt murmured.

"Is he wearing a red rubber dress?" Azimio said to Karofsky, "because I'm not -"

"I want to thank you, Kurt," Finn interrupted. "I realized I still have a lot to learn. But the reason I'm here right now... in a shower curtain... is because of you." He stepped forward, glaring. "And I'm not going to let anyone lay a hand on you."

Karofsky laughed. "Oh, really, dude? Cause I'm pretty sure we can take both of you."

"Yeah?" Kurt's gaze shot from Finn to the rest of Glee club, clustered behind them in their theatricality costumes. Noah stood there smirking, his red painted lips glistening. "Can you take all of us?"

"Okay... I get it," said Azimio, nodding. "I took biology. You know what, Karofsky? We done disturbed the freak hive. The worker freaks is trying to protect the queen freak."

"Next time we'll bring some friends too," Karofsky said, scowling, as they disappeared down the hall. The rest of Glee club handed around high-fives, surrounding Kurt and Tina in their costumes.

Rachel sighed. "I'm sick of everyone calling us freaks."

"Well, look at us," said Mercedes, laughing. "We are freaks."

"But we're all freaks together." Finn smiled at Noah. "And we shouldn't have to hide it."

Kurt gazed at Finn as they walked down the hall together, touching his dress in amazement. "A red shower curtain? Let me guess."

"Sheets'N'Things comes through again," he said, grinning shyly. "No more employee discount, though."

"I didn't even know you could sew."

Finn shook his head. "Actually, it was Puck. And my mom."

Kurt stopped, staring at him with wide eyes. "Puck?"

Noah turned around at the sound of his name, glancing at the two of them before continuing on toward the choir room with the rest of Glee. Finn paused beside Kurt.

"He told me," he said. "Yesterday after school, he came back to the house, and he told me everything." Finn didn't look away. "About... you and him."

"Wow," Kurt whispered. "I - I'm just a little -"

"I'm really, really sorry, Kurt," said Finn. "You've been really nice to me, the whole time our parents have been dating, and I've just been a jerk about the whole thing. You've had to deal with Azimio and Karofsky and everybody pushing you around. And me, too."

"It's okay," he said, but Finn stopped him, shaking his head.

"Your dad was right. It's really not okay, what I said. You don't deserve that. I was just freaking out about my life changing so much, I didn't even realize what's been going on this whole time with you and Puck."

Kurt smiled half-heartedly. "We've mostly been trying to ignore it ourselves."

"Yeah, I guess I get why. But he told me, all the stuff you did. How much time you've been spending together. I guess you love him a lot, huh?"

"I - I guess?" He licked his lips. "I've never really said it. Not in those words. But... yeah. I think so. But Noah didn't feel like he could tell anybody else." He felt something bloom in his chest. "Until now."

"Yeah," Finn said softly, shaking his head. "I think he felt like he kind of had to. I mean, if you and me are gonna be living in the same house, you wouldn't really be able to hide it, would he? How you felt?"

Kurt gazed down the empty hallway toward the choir room. "No... probably not."

Finn grinned. "Well, jeez, from the way he was talking to me and my mom, he sure sounded like you were pretty invested."

"He - told your  _mom?"_  Kurt squeaked.

"Yeah, who do you think made the dress? It sure as hell wasn't Puck." Finn nudged his arm. "Come on. I owe your dad a formal apology. And to ask him if he'd be willing to give me another chance."

"He will, Finn," Kurt assured him. "Everybody deserves another chance."


	9. Spring 2010 continued

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although this chapter remains rated T, the rest of the story will fall firmly into M and possibly E territory. So if you're expecting to get through this epic with no sex, you'd better stop reading now before you get lured over to the dark side. Everybody else, continue! And to everybody who wrote me happy PMs saying "Noah told someone!" I regret to say you were misinformed.   
> -amy

Noah didn't pick up when he called him, but Kurt didn't really expect him to.  _Leave a message,_  said Noah's voice, before the beep.

"Finn told me what you did," Kurt said, as he loaded his costume into the back of the Navigator. "I don't know if it was for me, or for you, or both, but I owe you. And we should probably talk about... what happened last night. Just call me."

Kurt could have kicked himself as soon as he said it, because if Noah wanted to talk about what had happened, he would have called already, or been waiting next to his car, or -

"Jesus," he yelped, as he opened the door and found Noah in the passenger seat. "How did you get in here?"

"Me and a bent wire hanger, man, we're like  _this,"_  Noah said, holding up two crossed fingers, grinning. "Worth it, for that look on your face."

"I thought you were avoiding me," Kurt said, sighing in relief. "When you didn't call back last night, I thought -"

"I know. I should have stopped and called, but things with Finn didn't wind down until after midnight. I figured by then you'd be asleep."

He touched Noah's arm. "You could have told me what you were going to do."

"Are you serious?" Noah's eyebrows went up. " _I_  didn't even know I what I was going to do. I just thought I was going over there to talk some sense into him. But he was so sure you were trying to get into his pants." He shouldered his bag. "It was the only way I could think to get him to listen."

"And Carole?"

He shrugged. "She was there. And she knew which box had her sewing machine. No big."

Kurt watched him climbing out of the car with unease. "Noah, this  _was_  a big deal. Finn knew it was, too."

Noah shook his head, looking irritated. "Don't get carried away, okay? I knew you were going to end up being all weird about it." He stepped out of the Navigator, his face impassive. "I'll call you later."

Kurt felt like he was missing something important. He wasn't exactly sure what had transpired between last night and now to cause Noah to want put so much distance between them, but it was clear that pushing him to talk more wasn't helping. And no matter how much Noah appeared to want him to, Kurt wasn't going to drop it.

The first thing he did was to call Carole. She sounded pleased to hear from him.

"Finn really wore that dress, hmmm?" she said, chuckling. "I couldn't quite believe it was for a Glee assignment, but Noah was adamant he had to make it."

"It was an expression of our individuality," Kurt said. "But - Noah. Did he really tell you what I  _think_  he told you?"

She sounded soothing. "Kurt, there's nothing to be embarrassed about. Noah's an attractive boy. It's only reasonable you would have a crush on him."

He frowned. "Is that what he called it? A  _crush?_  And what about his part?"

"What do you mean?"

Kurt sighed. "I thought... never mind. Thank you for helping with Finn's costume."

When Burt got home, Kurt was sitting at the dining room table, his head in his hands.

"Hey," said Burt, moving to sit beside him, touching his shoulder. "What's going on? Finn came to the garage and apologized. We had a long talk. He said the two of you were cool."

Kurt didn't raise his head. "We are. This isn't about Finn."

Burt waited, watching Kurt with troubled eyes. "You gonna tell me what it is, then?"

"I... I don't know what to do. About Noah." He rubbed his forehead, feeling overwhelmingly weary. "I haven't really told you anything about that. I guess I haven't known what to say."

"It's complicated, huh?" Burt looked sympathetic. "Noah's got a lot going on in his life. His kid's going to be born soon, right?"

Kurt thought about the song Noah had sung in Glee that week, and he smiled. "Yeah... she's due in a few weeks, probably not until school's done." His smile slid away. "Then he'll be gone for the summer again."

"You'll see him in the fall."

"But if we don't have Glee club anymore, how likely is it that we'll even talk to each other at school anymore? He might as well go back to throwing me into dumpsters." He closed his eyes. "We've tried being friends... but most of the time, if he's not teasing me or pushing me around, he's ignoring me."  _Or sleeping in my bed with me,_  he thought, but he didn't say that part aloud.

Burt grinned. "Well, you know, when I was in school, when the boys teased a girl, it was because they liked her. They just didn't have the maturity to do anything else about it."

Kurt met his dad's eyes. "I know Noah likes me. He knows it too. We talked about it last night. I think he said... he's in love with me."

Burt sat back slowly. "Oh. Uh, that's... more than I expected from him."

"Tell me about it," Kurt agreed. "But then he didn't call me, and yesterday he blew me off. Like it was nothing." He shook his head. "If he can't be honest about himself - if he can't be out - we can't be together. He told me he doesn't want me to settle. I thought, maybe, he was changing. That he was ready for that."

"He might be, Kurt, but it's not gonna happen all at once. You've got to be patient."

"I  _have_  been patient!" Kurt snapped. "He told Finn and Carole  _I'm_  in love with  _him,_  but he apparently didn't mention his  _own_  feelings. I just... I don't know if I can deal with this. Being at school with him is almost impossible. The feelings are - intense. And very distracting."

Burt nodded. He wasn't smiling anymore. "I know that's not the only thing that's going on. Finn mentioned there were guys at school who are bothering you. He said he's going to look out for you."

"Noah is, too. The whole Glee club stood up for me. I think I can handle Karofsky, but..." He shook his head miserably. "I don't know if I can handle not being able to have Noah."

"I'm really sorry, Kurt," said his dad. "Love isn't always easy, even without having to deal with any of this other stuff. I wish I could protect you from it." He tilted his head. "Do you want me to tell Noah he can't come over anymore?"

Kurt thought about it. "Maybe that would be better," he said at last. "It's not what I want, but..."

Burt stood, laying a hand on Kurt's shoulder again. "You let me know when you decide, okay? I'm on your side, no matter what."

Kurt nodded. "That means a lot, dad."

"In the meantime... Finn and Carole are coming back to the house tonight. You up for dinner out, the four of us? A little housewarming celebration?"

He smiled automatically. "Sure. That sounds good."

He picked up his phone and dialed as he went downstairs to change. Noah answered right away.

"Finn will be here tonight," Kurt told him. "And my dad said you shouldn't come over anymore."

"Fuck." Noah sounded resigned. "I guess he was pretty mad about what happened?"

"Something like that. Do you still want me to call and read to you?"

"Why not? Finn knows what's going on."

"Sure," he said flatly. "You told him how I feel about  _you_. How about how  _you_  feel? Because apparently you left out that part when you talked to him and Carole."

"You - wait a second. You thought I told Finn about  _me?_ What the fuck gave you that idea? _"_  Noah snorted. "Yeah, like that's going to happen."

Kurt felt a surge of anger. "No. I definitely get that now. How silly of me to think that anything would ever be different. Because Noah Puckerman would never consider doing  _anything_  that wasn't to benefit his own selfish interests."

"Fuck you!" Noah snapped. "Don't put this on me. I never said it  _was_  going to be different. You're still expecting me to change? That I'm going to wake up one day and everything that's wrong about me's going to be fixed? I told you not to wait around for that."

Kurt found himself rising to his feet, driven by his anguish. "You're really telling me that nothing was different last night? That you didn't want anything more, sleeping in this bed with me? I can't believe that."

"Believe whatever you want. I'm not here to prove anything to you." Noah's voice was stony. "You're so fucking naive. You think all you have to do is have faith in me and I'm going to be somehow better? No matter what you think you're seeing, Kurt, underneath I'm still an asshole. Believe  _that."_

"I don't." Kurt dashed the tears from his eyes. "You'll never be able to convince me of that. I see you, Noah. I think I'm the only one, ever, who gets to see  _all_  of you. You weren't hiding from me last night. And you know what? You didn't push me to do anything. You were just here, taking care of me, giving me exactly what I needed. Because that's what you really wanted to do."

"Yeah!" Noah shouted. "Yeah, that's what I wanted. God dammit, Kurt, that's what I want all the time. And it doesn't make a fucking bit of difference."

_Nothing's changed,_  Kurt thought, sinking back down onto the bed.  _He's absolutely right. Nothing's going to change._

"All right." He leaned against the pile of pillows, feeling hollow. "I hear what you're saying now. I'm sorry I doubted your words."

"Yeah." Noah sighed. "So, that's it, huh?"

"I guess so. I mean, you're telling me I'm wasting my time waiting for something you can't give me. I don't really see how this is good for either of us, pretending that friendship is enough, going back and forth between yelling and - wanting something we can't have."

"What else is there, Kurt?" he asked softly. "What other choice is there to make?"

"I don't know," he whispered.

Noah was silent for a moment. "I guess I'll see you at school, then."

Kurt couldn't find any tears to cry once he hung up the phone. Eventually he took his empty feeling with him up the stairs to greet Finn and Carole. He went to dinner and made conversation and did all the things he could do to get along, but the empty feeling didn't go away. Having Finn in his basement room while he moisturized and got in bed didn't help, either.

"I'm sorry we have to share a room, Finn," he said, as he turned off the light.

"Hey, it's okay." Finn moved the throw pillows to a pile on the floor before climbing into his own bed. "I don't need to be so selfish. This is about my mom, and I want her to be happy. You're a good guy, Kurt. I can deal."

_I wish I could,_  thought Kurt.

* * *

All through preparation for regionals, and the miserable anticipation of the end of the year, Noah and Kurt ignored one another. Kurt managed to stay focused on school enough not to completely screw up his grades. He made an effort to be as involved as he could be with his family, as Carole sold her house and moved into theirs, but the empty feeling persisted.  _What's the point?_  he asked himself, more than once a day.

And then Quinn went into labor in the middle of regionals. Watching Noah witness his own daughter being born was its own exquisite kind of agony, because not only was Kurt not able to support Noah in any way, but until recently, Kurt had been the only one who'd seen emotions like that from Noah.  _Selfish,_  he reminded himself. But that didn't stop him wanting to have Noah look at him the way he was looking at his daughter through the glass wall of the hospital nursery.

He got through his finals, barely. When Tina asked him if he was planning to do the summer musical with Mrs. Wright at the Encore, he considered saying no, but he had no idea how he would keep himself occupied all summer without it.

"It's  _Into the Woods,"_  she said hopefully.

"Terrific," he muttered, then sighed. "I guess Jack's a good tenor part."

Then, on the last week of school, Noah stopped him in the hallway. They'd barely spoken in over a week, and being that close to him, feeling his touch on his arm, was somewhat disturbing.

"What do you want?" Kurt said.

"We're planning this song for Mr. Schue," said Noah. "In the auditorium, after school tomorrow. You wanna help out?"

Kurt stared at him. "What makes you think I would be interested in working with you?"

He looked uncomfortable. "Well... I guess I thought this might be the last chance we had to sing together, if Glee's getting cancelled. But if you don't care -"

"You know it's not that I don't care," Kurt whispered. He eyed the other students in the hallway as they walked by, feeling exposed. "I care too much."

"This can just be for Mr. Schue, right?" Noah frowned. "It doesn't have to be about us."

"Didn't you just say -" Kurt cut himself off with an exasperated sigh. "Fine. I'm not going to argue with you about this. What do you need me to do?"

"Stay after school. We'll just go through the song a couple times and figure out who's singing which parts. Talk to Tina and Mercedes, okay?"

Kurt didn't really want to spend the rest of the day feeling angry at Noah, but he couldn't let go of his annoyance. There was no way Mercedes wasn't going to pick up on it, even if she didn't know what it was about.

"You don't have to do this, Kurt," she said gently. "We can handle the rehearsal. You can just come tomorrow when we sing for Mr. Schue."

"I'm sorry," he said, rubbing his forehead, but she shook her head.

"You don't have to explain. Losing Glee, it's hard on all of us. I'll call you later and let you know what you have to sing, okay?"

Kurt drove home, feeling guilty for bailing, but his relief at not having to deal with Noah trumped his guilt. And then Noah surprised him by calling him later anyway.

"I knew you were selfish, but I didn't think you were a coward," Noah said angrily. "Way to skip out on Mr. Schue's going-away present."

"Hey, I'll be there tomorrow," Kurt said. "What do you care, anyway?"

"I care too much, too. You know that." Noah made a frustrated noise. "You're really going to give up on you and me? You're saying if I can't give you everything, you're going to deny us  _anything?"_

"We had this conversation already, Noah. I can't deal with being your friend. I'm feeling too much." Kurt glared ineffectively at the scarves adorning the wall of his room. "You're not the only one who can be an asshole, you know."

Noah snorted a laugh. "Yeah, I know. I kind of admire that about you." He paused, then added, "I miss you."

Kurt closed his eyes. "Don't do this. Don't make me care about you again. It's going to be hard enough getting through this summer as it is."

"So why is it better to ignore me, if you're just going to be miserable anyway?"

In that moment, Kurt didn't have the energy to argue with him about it. "I don't know. I just know I can't deal with being around you when you're feeling things if I don't get to be part of it."

"You want me to tell you how  _I'm_  feeling?"

"No." He sighed. "Yes. I don't know."

"I'm freaking out. About Beth."

"Oh, Noah," Kurt whispered, but Noah kept talking in his matter-of-fact voice. His tone didn't give too much away, but the words spoke volumes.

"I know I can't do anything about it. She's got a mom now, and that's enough, I guess. I tell myself it would have been better for me not to have a dad, or for my dad not to have stuck around to deal with me, but... really, it just sucks that there's a piece of me walking around out there and there's nothing I can do to give her what she needs."

Kurt struggled to stay calm, listening to Noah talk, but it wasn't easy when all he wanted to do was put his arms around him and hold him close. "There's nothing saying you couldn't still be part of her life, someday."

"I know." He sounded resigned. "It's not any different than it is with you, Kurt. I know I'm not ready to be a dad, any more than I'm ready to be - to give you what you need. Doesn't stop me from wanting it."

Kurt considered the last week of his life, being without Noah. He thought about what three months without him would feel like, and the empty feeling inside threatened to consume him. He screwed his face up, refusing to let it take over.

"I miss you, too," he said, when he regained control. "And I don't want you to be alone all summer."

"So you're going to call me?" Noah said hopefully. "We're going to read, like last summer?"

"We've got books." Kurt looked at the next three books in the Ender series, stacked on the corner of his desk. "We can read."

"That would help a lot. The being alone thing, I mean."

"I know." Kurt choked out a quick goodbye, and buried his face in his pillows, not bothering to hold back the sobs any longer. He clutched his own arms, holding himself tight, but all he could feel was Noah's skin under his hands, Noah's warm body. The words weren't ever going to be enough.

* * *

Kurt managed to get through the song for Mr. Schue, but when they all walked in and sat down together on the last day of Glee club, silent and sober, he found himself on the edge of tears again.  _I'm losing everything,_  he thought, gazing around the room at the twelve other people.  _Everything that meant anything to me._

Noah, on the other hand, looked calm and collected. Kurt didn't understand why until after Mr. Schue smiled brilliantly and said, "We've got another year."

In the tumult of excitement and relief that followed, Kurt realized Noah was still sitting there with his arms crossed, smirking. Kurt caught him in the hallway afterwards.

"You knew," he said.

"Yeah," Noah admitted. "Mr. Schue told me last night when he called to work on  _Over the Rainbow._ "

Kurt glared at him, but he knew it lacked force. "Next time something like that happens, call me, okay?"

"Why?"

"Because that's what  _friends_  do," he said, with emphasis. Noah looked at his shoes, his smirk becoming softer.

"Friends?"

"Unless you have a better word for what we are."

He looked into Kurt's eyes for one brief moment. Kurt wasn't prepared to see that expression from Noah, at school of all places. He took a step back.

"Call me," Noah said, before walking away.

* * *

Kurt didn't call him for another week, and by then it was just a few days until Noah was scheduled to leave for New York. Noah didn't pick up; instead, he got Sarah.

"Hi, Kurt," she said. "Noah's watching  _Henry the Fifth_ again."

"The one with Kenneth Branagh?" Kurt couldn't help but smile.

" _Noah!"_  she shouted. "Kurt wants to talk to you."

There was a substantial pause before Noah picked up. "Sorry," he said thickly.

"Sarah said you were in the middle of a movie."

"Yeah, well, it's not like I haven't seen it a zillion times already. Still gets me every time." He heard Noah blow his nose. "I'm not sure what I'll do if I don't get the part of Henry."

"Is that what you guys are doing this year at camp? You know you'll get it."

"I don't know. Chris fought me pretty hard for Cyrano last year, and who knows what other kids might show up. There's a lot of competition. The other play is  _Glengarry Glen Ross_  by David Mamet, which is fine, but... it's not  _Henry V._ "

He sounded so discouraged, Kurt spoke before he thought. "How about I come over and watch the rest of the movie with you?"

"Uh..." Noah coughed uneasily. "It's pretty messy over here right now."

"Well... my dad and Carole are at work, and Finn's over at Rachel's. You could probably come over for a little while, if you could find someone to watch Sarah."

"Yeah? She could go play at the neighbor's house. I don't want to get you in trouble with your dad. I know he said -"

"It's okay," Kurt interrupted. He already felt bad about lying to Noah about his dad's "decision" not to let Noah come over anymore. "I should be alone here for a while. I'll make us some lunch."

"Thanks, Kurt. I'll be there in a few."

Kurt made sandwiches, then paced the family room restlessly until Noah arrived. He ran to meet him at the door when he pulled up.

Noah's smile made Kurt quiver inside.  _Get it together,_  he told himself, but as soon as Noah hugged him, he could tell it was going to be useless to attempt self-control.

"Missed you," Noah whispered into his hair.

"Yeah," Kurt whispered back. "Me, too." He allowed himself a moment to hold Noah close against his chest before putting a few inches distance between them. "Go on into the family room and set up the DVD. I'll bring lunch out."

Noah seemed more nervous than usual, shifting his legs beside Kurt on the couch. He touched Kurt's knee as the opening music began. "Thanks. For inviting me over. It would have sucked not to have a chance to say goodbye before I left."

Kurt nodded, feeling dumbstruck by that simple touch. When Noah moved a little closer to him, he considered getting up and moving to the chair, but instead he took a deep breath and closed the distance between them, tucking himself under Noah's arm and resting against his shoulder. He heard Noah catch his breath.

"It doesn't have to be complicated," Kurt said, before he could speak. "Not right now. Not when it's just the two of us."

Noah tightened his arm around Kurt. "You don't think so, huh?"

"No," he replied firmly. "We're watching this movie."

For a while, Kurt attention was split between the screen and the pressure of their thighs, brushing against one another. The movie was good, no question, but Noah was more compelling still, pausing to describe scenes to Kurt and mention key points as the fluid language of Shakespeare flowed past. Henry, the Dauphin, Falstaff, Mountjoy, the Duke of Exeter, all were brought to life on the screen, as much by Noah's enthusiasm as the actors themselves. Kurt found himself engaged despite himself.

He watched Noah's mouth moving in tandem with Branagh's as he recited the St. Crispin's Day speech, his eyes glittering with unshed tears.

<http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A-yZNMWFqvM>

_... This story shall the good man teach his son;_  
 _And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,_  
 _From this day to the ending of the world,_  
 _But we in it shall be remembered -_  
 _We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;_  
 _For he to-day that sheds his blood with me_  
 _Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,_  
 _This day shall gentle his condition;_  
 _And gentlemen in England now-a-bed_  
 _Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,_  
 _And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks  
_ _That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day._

Kurt reached up and brushed his fingers against Noah's cheek. Noah jerked his eyes away from the screen. He smiled sheepishly, his cheeks flushing pink as he wet his lips.

"You don't think I'm an idiot," Noah asked, "because I like this stuff?"

"No," promised Kurt. "Not at all. I see why you love it. You make me love it, too. That's what good actors do, right?"

His smile and his blush deepened. "You think I'm good?"

"Now you're really fishing for compliments." Kurt couldn't help look at Noah's moist lips, inches away from his own, but he wasn't about to make any move toward them. Noah seemed oblivious to their closeness.

"I might have a shot at making it big someday, maybe," he said. "There's nothing I'd rather do than  _that._ " He pointed at the screen. "So it's either that... or nothing."

"Worth it," Kurt agreed. "Even if it's a long shot."

He and Noah cried together as they watched the soldiers fight and die in the battle of Agincourt, against the line of French mounted knights. When the credits rolled, Kurt turned to Noah and hugged him fiercely.

"I think you'll be perfect for that part," he said. "And I want you to call me and tell me as soon as you get it."

Noah hugged Kurt back, smiling. Then he picked up the tray of empty dishes. "You totally spoil me. Making lunch, and watching this with me - it was the best way to spend my last day here."

Kurt followed him into the kitchen. "I'm surprised there's nobody else you'd rather be spending the day with."

Noah set the tray on the counter, turning back to look into Kurt's eyes. He shook his head. "No," he said. "Kurt... there's nobody. Nobody else."

Kurt let his gaze slide to the floor. "You'll be in New York by tomorrow, with Chris."

"No," Noah said again. He reached out and took Kurt's jaw in his fingers, raising it to face him. "Nobody else."

He nodded, swallowing on a dry throat. "Okay," he said. "I got it."

Again, he waited, feeling the tingle on his skin where Noah's fingers touched his face.  _Surely he would, now...?_  But again, the moment passed, and Noah moved away, picking up his DVD and heading for the door.

"I'll text when I get there," he said. "You let me know how your audition goes, okay?"

" _Noah,"_  Kurt protested. Noah held up a hand, looking resigned.

"Don't," he said, shaking his head. "You told me a long time ago what you want. This isn't it. Don't try to get me to believe it is."

"I want -" said Kurt, then stopped, gritting his teeth in frustration.

"Yeah, well, you might, but it's still not what you deserve." Noah stepped out onto the porch and glanced back at Kurt through the screen door. "Have a good summer."

Kurt pressed his hands against the screen, watching Noah walk down the steps with a growing sense of urgency. He opened his mouth to say,  _wait, stop, please, don't do this. Don't leave._

"I love you," he said.

Noah halted so quickly, he almost stumbled over his feet. Then he turned back to face Kurt. His expression was filled with regret and desire.

"Kurt," he said reproachfully.

"I'm sorry," Kurt said, jerking away from the screen, and swiftly closed the door before he could blurt anything else. He leaned his back against the door and shut his eyes, feeling his heart racing in his chest, trying desperately to catch his breath.

_Three months,_  he thought, trying not to panic.  _Three months apart gives you enough time to stop this._

He turned, parting the curtain on the window far enough to watch Noah climbing back into his truck. Then his phone registered receiving a text. He pulled it out of his pocket.

_I love you, too._

Kurt groaned, leaning his head forward to rest against the window. "What the hell am I  _doing?"_  he cried into the empty house. Only silence answered back.

* * *

Kurt stayed in bed as late as he could the next day, not wanting to get up and face being alone. He knew he could go to the garage, or call Mercedes or Tina, or do any one of a number of chores his dad would probably bring up if he said anything about being bored, but none of those would take his mind off of Noah.

He texted Noah at lunch, figuring if he drove all day, he'd be arriving in New York just after dinner.  _How's the traffic?_

_Crappy,_  Noah replied, making Kurt grin. The words were innocuous enough, but Carole saw the grin, and asked about it.

"Noah's driving to camp today," he said. He took a seat at the dining room table, resting his head on his hand. "Last summer I called him every night and read to him over the phone. He asked me yesterday if I would do the same thing again."

She nodded, sitting down beside him. "What did you say?"

"Yes?" He shrugged. "I don't know, Carole. I've tried ignoring him, and fighting with him, and being his friend... and none of those are satisfactory."

"It's hard when somebody you care about doesn't want the same thing you want."

He looked at her, biting his lip. "Can you - keep a secret?"

She considered him. "Is it yours to tell?"

"If you were anybody but my parent, I'd say no. But... I think I might need you to know this, even if it's breaking a confidence, because I already told my dad."

"In that case, you'd better tell me," she said. "Your father's rotten at keeping secrets."

Kurt didn't laugh. "Noah told you how I feel about him, but... he didn't tell you how... he feels about me."

"How he -" She stopped, watching him. "Kurt... are you sure  _you_  know how he feels about you?"

He took out his phone and pulled up Noah's text from yesterday,  _I love you too,_ and slid it across the table at her. She gazed down at it and sighed.

"I've known Noah a long time," she said. "He and Finn have been friends since they were kids. I can't say I'm all that surprised." She passed the phone back and touched his hand. "But, Kurt, I also can't say he's likely to make  _that_  public any time soon."

"Yeah," he agreed. "I think I've come to terms with that. But he also told me someday he'd be sure enough about himself to be able to give me what I need. And that he didn't want me to wait around for him, but... he asked, if I was still single when he was ready, if I would let him try to be everything I needed."

Her eyes were wide. "When did he ask you this?"

Kurt smiled weakly. "The very beginning of sophomore year."

They both sat for a moment in silence. Eventually she steepled her fingers in front of her mouth and let out a slow breath. "Kurt... I'm happy to listen any time you have a problem, no matter what it is. And I can give you advice if you're looking for it. But I'm not your mom, and I don't want to overstep my bounds here." She glanced at his phone. "To be honest, I have a hard time seeing Noah as anything other than the eight-year-old boy who accidentally broke Finn's wrist playing soccer."

The image made Kurt laugh. "I don't have to talk to you about this, Carole. I just wanted you to know what my dad knows."

But she shook her head. "No - it's okay. I'm simply admitting to my blind spots in advance. I have a hard time seeing Finn any other way, too, and yet... you're all becoming such young men. Straight, gay or anything else, you all deserve to be happy." She grinned at him. "I suppose I never expected any of you to be happy with  _each other."_

"Well, I don't know what label Noah would choose for himself, should he ever decide to choose a label, but I suspect he would say he still likes girls. But I know he likes  _me,_  too." Kurt felt a stupid, dreamy smile spread across his face at the idea. "There's a boy at camp he liked - several, I think - but he also said there's no one else he feels this way about."

"You're very special, Kurt. I've only known you a little while, but I already know that. I'm not surprised that Noah knows it, too." She took his hand and squeezed it, gazing at him meaningfully. "It also sounds like he loves you enough not to let you settle for less than you deserve."

Kurt considered that for a long moment. "I don't disagree with that idea in theory," he said slowly. "But Noah and I have been close like this on and off for almost two years. He lets me see aspects of him he doesn't share with anybody else. I can say, with some degree of certainty, that I  _know_  him - and the Noah I know is someone I would be proud to call my boyfriend." He shook his head. "Unfortunately, he doesn't appear to agree with me."

"So, even if you do keep waiting, you don't keep yourself from looking elsewhere," said Carole firmly. "And you  _don't_  settle, but... I can still hope that, someday, Noah's ability to give you what you need coincides with your desire to want it from him."

Kurt hugged her. "I hope so, too."

Then he picked up his phone, walking slowly down the stairs. He typed out:  _I miss you already, dammit._

Noah's answer came slowly, but when it did, Kurt sighed, with relief as much as regret.  _Yeah. Im kind of a fucking mess._

_I'm here,_  he replied.  _For what that's worth._

_Its worth a lot,_  Noah told him.  _I still dont expect you to stick around waiting for me._

_I know. But I am. As long as you'll let me love you anyway, as best as I can, from here?_

Kurt waited a while for Noah's next reply.  _Your making me cry like a fucking little girl, kurt._

He smiled through his own tears.  _I can relate. Don't drive off the highway, please._

_I pulled over._

Kurt hesitated, then dialed Noah's number. He could hear him sniffling.

"You called to hear me cry?" said Noah, his words a little indistinct. "Really?"

"I took a chance," Kurt said. "I figured you wouldn't pick up if you didn't want to talk to me."

"Yeah, well, there's not a lot of danger of that happening." He let out a long, slow breath. "Right now I'm wishing I hadn't been so fucking responsible yesterday. I could at least have kissed you goodbye after you took that risk, saying... how you felt."

Kurt let his imagination dwell on that idea for a moment. "Saying that didn't feel like much of a risk," he admitted. "I think it was more like an uncontrolled urge. I've been thinking it for so long, I just..."

"Yeah." Noah paused, then added softly, "Say it again?"

Kurt swallowed. "I - I love you."

He heard Noah sigh again, but this time it sounded more satisfied. "I love you, too, Kurt."

"Wow," he whispered, feeling the words reverberate inside him, like an echo. "I don't think I quite believed you the first time you told me that, last summer."

"We weren't exactly friends for a while there. And I'm still an asshole, you know."

Kurt leaned back against his pillowed, feeling lightheaded. "You keep telling me that, but then you go and do something nice and thoughtful."

"I'll reclaim my asshole status sooner or later," Noah assured him. "Thanks, anyway, for the opportunity to feel like the good guy for a change. I really thought this summer was going to suck."

"Me, too," Kurt agreed. "It still might." He grinned. "At least you don't have to worry about being responsible around me, as long as you're in New York."

"Are you kidding?" Noah chuckled. "I seem to recall you have this habit of jacking off while thinking about me..."

Kurt heard himself make a noise which was intended to be a  _no,_  but really sounded more like a moan. He pulled himself together. "Which we are  _not_  going to do now. Seriously, Noah, I am not going to let my first sexual experience with another boy happen on the  _phone."_

"Suit yourself," he drawled. "Phone sex can be damn hot."

"I'll have to take your word for it." Kurt reached for  _Shadow of the Hegemon,_  waiting on his side table. "Attempting to change the subject, here... do you think you can drive and listen to me read at the same time?"

"Hey, good idea. Hang on a second." He heard Noah's truck accelerate back onto the highway. "All right, go ahead."

Kurt leaned on one elbow. Maybe nothing had changed between them, but he definitely felt a lot better. "You're not going to miss your exit or anything?"

"Not for another four hours. As long as your voice holds out, babe, you've got my undivided attention."

Kurt made it through two chapters before his phone started to flash warnings about running out of battery. He set the book down on his chest, lying flat on his back and staring up at the ceiling.

"What did you call me, before?" he asked.

Noah laughed uneasily. "It's nothing. Just a stupid name."

He smiled. "That's not really a name you call a friend, is it?  _Babe?_ "

"Never mind," Noah muttered. "I won't do it again."

"No, it's okay. I like it. I'm just saying -"

"What, it doesn't mean you're my boyfriend or anything. Fuck that. I'm not interested in labels."

"Hey." He cut Noah's angry words off with soft reassurance. "I know. I'm not looking for you to be anybody you're not. I only wanted to say I noticed, and it was nice."

"Okay." Noah still sounded a little uncertain. "Just... I'm not going to call you honey or sweetheart or anything stupid like that."

Kurt giggled. "No, I don't think I could handle hearing that from you. It's fine. Call me when you get there, okay? To let me know you're safe?"

"Sure. Thanks for reading, Kurt."

He hugged the book to his chest. "Thanks for letting me. I really love doing it."

Kurt wondered if the urge to run around gleefully telling everybody he knew _he said he loves me_  was a rational one. He decided, considering Noah's situation, that it probably wasn't. But he did fire off a text to Andrea before plugging in his phone to charge:  _Noah told me he loved me, out loud. Please tell me I'm not insane for being this excited about a closeted boy._

_You are,_  she replied.  _But I'm still really happy for you._

Then he went upstairs to find Carole. Before she could say anything, he hugged her. She laughed, surprised. "What-?"

"Things are looking up," he said. His cheeks were getting sore from smiling so hard. "With Noah. I just... had to tell somebody."

Her smile softened. "Oh, Kurt. I'm glad to hear it."

"Thanks, Carole. I'm trying hard to hang on to my convictions, but..." He laughed, the happiness bubbling up inside him. "It's hard, when I feel this good."

"Give yourself a break," she advised. "You get to be happy, too."

* * *

<http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6n_CU3yt31o>

_Another day another life_  
 _Passes by just like mine_  
 _It's not complicated_  
 _Another mind_  
 _Another soul_  
 _Another body to grow old  
_ _It's not complicated_

_Do you ever wonder if the stars shine out for you?_  
 _Float down_  
 _Like autumn leaves_  
 _And hush now_  
 _Close your eyes before the sleep_  
 _And you're miles away  
_ _And yesterday you were here with me_

_Another tear_  
 _Another cry_  
 _Another place for us to die_  
 _It's not complicated_  
 _Another life that's gone to waste_  
 _Another light lost from your face  
_ _It's complicated_

_Is it that it's over or do birds still sing for you?_  
 _Float down_  
 _Like autumn leaves_  
 _And hush now_  
 _Close your eyes before the sleep_  
 _And you're miles away  
_ _And yesterday you were here with me_

_And, oh, how I miss you_  
 _My symphony played the song that carried you out_  
 _And, oh, how I miss you  
_ _I miss you and I wish you'd stay_

_Touch down_  
 _Like a seven four seven  
_ _Stay out and we'll live forever now_

_\- Ed Sheeran, "Autumn Leaves"_


	10. Summer 2010

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to those of you who have been counting on the PG-13 rating, but this is as far as these boys would go without their hormones getting carried away. But, if you prefer, you can probably stop reading a third of the way through and add the words "they had phone sex" and you wouldn't miss too much story.   
> -amy

 

The first disappointment of the summer came when the sale of the Hudson house fell through. "It's okay," Carole assured them over dinner. "It was just that the buyer couldn't come up with the down payment. There wasn't anything wrong with the property. It'll go back on the market, and we'll keep staying here. I can afford the mortgage payments for a while longer."

The second one came when Mercedes told Kurt she wasn't doing the musical with Wright this summer. "I'm going to church camp," she said apologetically over the phone. "The choir's doing some amazing things, and I don't want to miss it for a musical I don't really care much about."

He already knew Tina was going to Asian camp with Mike Chang. Tina and Kurt agreed later that Mercedes would have had a fantastic time if she'd tried out for the part of the Witch, but if she'd rather sing with her church choir, Kurt wasn't going to push it.

So Kurt drove himself to the Encore for auditions of  _Into the Woods,_ figuring at the very least it would be an opportunity to meet new people. He was a little taken aback when he saw Quinn Fabray climbing out of her little red Honda. She turned to Kurt, giving him a tentative smile.

"I heard things were different in summer theater," she said. She put a hand on her not-quite-flat belly. "It's been... a hard couple weeks. I could use something a little different."

Kurt walked with her into the lobby, picking up an audition form for himself and one for Quinn. "Mrs. Wright," he said, gesturing for her to come forward, "Quinn sang alto in Glee with me last year. She'd like to join us."

"Welcome," Mrs. Wright said, nodding at her. "There are plenty of parts."

"Are you familiar with  _Into the Woods?"_ Kurt asked as they went to complete their forms.

"I watched the DVD of the Broadway performance last night," said Quinn. "I'd be fine with a chorus part. What about you? You could sing Jack."

He shrugged. "It's either that or the Baker, and I'm not really up for a role like that."

"Like what?" Quinn wrinkled her brow. "Too many lines?"

"No, I could handle the lines. It's the romantic connection between the Baker and his wife." Kurt watched the lobby fill up with familiar faces. He waved at two upperclassmen who wouldn't have given him the time of day at school. "I'm pretty sure I couldn't pull off a heterosexual romance, even a pretend one."

"Didn't you play a straight part last year in  _Oklahoma?_ " She smiled at his expression. "What else is there to do in Lima over the summer? Of course I came to see the show."

"No, but it was a joke, that part. Character parts don't have to feel so... real." Kurt flipped through to the end of the libretto, where the Baker and his wife were singing  _It Takes Two._ "This kind of relationship - a marriage - it's a lot to pretend. I've never been in a relationship like that before. It would be hard to fake, don't you think?"

Jack, on the other hand, was a part Kurt could relate to all too well.

<http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SBF5KO4iuK4>

_Only just when you've made_  
A friend and all  
And you know she's big  
But you don't feel small,  
Someone bigger than her  
Comes along the hall  
To swallow you for lunch.

_And you heart is lead_  
 _And your stomach stone_  
 _And you're really scared  
_ _Being all alone..._

_And it's then that you miss_  
 _All the things you've known_  
 _And the world you've left_  
 _And the little you own-_  
 _The fun is done_  
 _You steal what you can and run._  
 _And you scramble down_  
 _And you look below,_  
 _And the world you know  
_ _Begins to grow_

_The roof, the house, and your Mother at the door_  
 _The roof, the house and the world you never thought to explore_  
 _And you think of all of the things you've seen,_  
 _And you wish that you could live in between,_  
 _And you're back again_  
 _Only different than before  
_ _After the sky._

When Kurt stood up in front of the assembled group and sang  _Giants in the Sky_ , he wasn't really surprised that they applauded for him. But he couldn't help remembering young Noah, sitting in the back of the auditorium two summers ago, waiting sullenly for Wright to be done with auditions.

_I'm different,_  he thought, handing the libretto back to Mrs. Wright.  _Different than before. Now that I've seen the sky... it's hard to be tethered to the ground. And I wish I could live in between, too._

Mrs. Wright smiled at him as he approached her afterwards. "I think you can assume you've got Jack, unless we have some big surprises here. You'll have fun with that part, Kurt. Have you heard from Noah about his auditions?"

"He's hoping for the lead in  _Henry V,_ but he hasn't called me yet."

Kurt sent a text to Noah as he watched the rest of the kids audition for chorus parts and solos.  _The Encore seems smaller this year._

_Yeah, wait til you get up on a real stage,_  replied Noah. _its hard to go back to community theater after doing that. you in auditions right now?_

_I think I got the part I wanted. There's one big song, and a bunch of dialogue and chorus parts, but it's nothing special._ Kurt clearly remembered the expression on Noah's face when they were watching  _Henry V,_  and  _Cyrano_  the year before that, and felt a sudden longing to experience that himself.  _I wish we were doing more serious theater._

_Congrats anyway, kurt. Ill let you know how things go later today._

_Thanks,_  wrote Kurt.  _I'll be thinking of you._

_You too._

When he looked up from his text, he found Quinn sitting across from him, staring at him thoughtfully. "Okay... what's up with that?" she said, pointing at his phone.

"I - "

She frowned. "Don't try to tell me it was Mercedes or Tina. Whatever boy you're talking to, he's clearly important."

Kurt laughed helplessly, trying to figure out how much he could say. "He's at theater camp in New York this summer. We - we're in love, but it's strictly long distance. He's not really out."

"Wow." She looked surprised, and a little impressed. "How did you two meet?"

"Theater. His father was an actor, and I got to know him two summers ago." Kurt could feel the conversation starting to drift into dangerous territory. "It's kind of a secret, Quinn."

"I won't tell anybody," she promised. She turned her attention back to the other students. "I'm a little surprised to see who's here - and who's not here. Where's Rachel?"

"Finn told me her dance and voice lesson schedule doesn't allow her to participate in community theater anymore," said Kurt. "I think she used to do it, though."

They were the only representatives from Glee club on the cast list when it was posted later that day, with Kurt as Jack and Quinn playing the part of Cinderella's stepmother. The usual suspects encompassed the rest of the main parts, although a boy Kurt didn't know named Sam had been cast as Rapunzel's Prince.

"Well," sighed Quinn, looking up at the posted list, "here goes."

"You'll have a good time," Kurt assured her. "Don't worry too much. My neighbor Andrea got me into summer theater, and she was right when she said the rules are different here." He gave her an encouraging smile. "Hey, if  _we_  can be friends, anything's possible."

"Sure," she said, smiling back. "I'll see you tomorrow, Kurt."

He still hadn't heard anything from Noah by the time he got home that day. He thought about Chris, and all the other friends Noah would be reconnecting with at camp. Even if they weren't... that is, even if there wasn't anybody he...  _loved,_  Noah would still have friends, people he'd missed. Kurt didn't want to interfere with that.

So he hid out in his bedroom, reading  _Vogue,_  until Noah finally called him.

"Is this what this summer's going to be like?" Kurt said, knowing he probably sounded a little bitchy, but at that moment not really caring. "Me, waiting around for you to call me?"

"Uh, you could have called  _me,_  if you'd wanted to." Noah didn't appear to be annoyed. On the contrary, Kurt could hear the excitement in his voice. That boded well for a positive outcome.

"I didn't want to be in the way. You have other things going on, and -"

"Yeah, whatever, Kurt. Tell me what  _other things_  you think I'd rather be doing than hanging out with you? I mean, fuck, if you could have come with me this summer -" He stopped. "Never mind. Just, you can call me whenever you feel like it, okay? I mean, I've got classes and stuff, but if I can't talk right then, you can leave a voice mail."

"Okay." Kurt tried not to feel like he was being placated. "So... I got the part. Jack?"

"Awesome," said Noah. "Congrats. Our director still hasn't made his decision about casting for  _Henry_ or  _Glengarry_. We'd better find out in the morning, or we'll get behind on blocking."

"But... you're reasonably certain you got the part of Henry?" Kurt guessed. Noah chuckled.

"Yeah. You know me pretty well, Kurt." His voice dropped. "That's really nice, you know. To have somebody who knows me like that?"

"I know," Kurt replied softly. Then he remembered who else had shown up that morning. "Quinn's in the show too. She's playing Cinderella's stepmother."

" _Quinn?"_

"Yes, that was just about my response when I saw her get out of her car. She was there alone, and she barely talked to anybody except me."

"Fuck. I'm going to have to give her a call." Noah sounded distraught. "She had a hard couple weeks after Beth was born. I thought she was doing better, but... maybe not."

"If there's anything I can do -"

"No. But I'm kind of glad you're going to be there to keep an eye on her. Would you... I don't know. Just, if anything seems off about her, would you let me know?"

Now Kurt was starting to feel worried. "Yes, of course. Mercedes is gone for the summer, or I'd ask her to check up on her." He hesitated before adding, "I - didn't tell her anything. About us. But she saw me texting you, and... well, she guessed it was somebody important."

"Hey, I trust you to cover. I'm sure you can come up with a believable story."

He frowned. "I don't really  _want_  to lie to anybody, Noah."

"Yeah. I know." He heard Noah's sigh. "I don't really want to make you."

"Well, so far I haven't told Quinn any lies. She knows you're a guy I know from theater and you're at camp in New York. I thought about making up a fake name, but, just, no."

"Probably safer not to get in any deeper than you have to," Noah agreed, but Kurt could tell he wasn't happy. "I'll call tonight and we can read?"

"Only if you want to."

"I  _want_  to," Noah insisted. "For fuck's sake."

"I'm sorry," Kurt said miserably. "I didn't mean to get like this. I don't want to walk around thinking about you and worrying about how you feel, but I do. And now that  _you_  know that, I can't pretend everything's okay when it's not, and..."

"Kurt. What is this? Do you want me to tell you I miss you?" There was a pause, and then Noah's voice dropped into something intense and focused. It was enough to send shivers down Kurt's spine, and he hunched forward, clutching the phone to his cheek in desperation, trying to get enough breath in his lungs as he listened to Noah  _declaim_  to him:

"When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see,  
For all the day they view things unrespected;  
But when I sleep, in dreams they look on thee,  
And darkly bright are bright in dark directed.  
Then thou, whose shadows doth make bright,  
How would thy shadow's form happy show  
To the clear day with thy much clearer light,  
When to unseeing eyes thy shade shines so!  
How would, I say, mine eyes be blessed made  
By looking on thee in the living day,  
When in dead night thy fair imperfect shade  
Through heavy sleep on sightless eyes doth stay!  
All days are nights to see till I see thee,  
And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me."

"Oh," Kurt whispered. "I - Noah..."

"I don't always use the words, Kurt," Noah said quietly. "But I always feel them, okay? Always. Don't doubt it." He paused. "I love you."

Kurt was left sitting on his bed, shivering, tingling with sensation and holding a silent phone.

* * *

That definitely wasn't the last day that summer that Kurt felt anxious about the state of his relationship with Noah. But, after that day, he was usually able to hang on to what Noah had said, and to trust that it was true. On those occasions when Noah wasn't using the words to say it, he could still remember the experience of  _being loved,_  by Noah.

Their summer routine was a lot easier than Kurt had ever expected it to feel. He spoke with Noah almost every day on the phone, and they texted during rehearsal, under Quinn's curious eye. Every night Kurt read to Noah, and on those days when Finn fell asleep before he did, he concluded their conversation with the words  _I love you_. Sometimes he even heard them returned, and believed them.

When Noah didn't get the role of Henry, he was mightily pissed, but Kurt was willing to listen to him complain, too. At one point, in the middle of a diatribe, Noah let out a frustrated groan. "God, Kurt, aren't you sick to death of me being like this?"

"I wish you were happier," Kurt had to admit, "but I don't mind being the one you talk to when you're upset about something. That's kind of a nice feeling. Like, if you decided you'd rather complain to somebody else, I think I'd feel jealous."

"Huh." Noah thought about that, and he finally conceded. "I guess I understand that. And I promise, I'll get over this eventually."

He did, though it took a couple days for him to decide the lead in  _Glengarry Glen Ross_  was worth being excited about. "My dad played Ricky Roma once, but I was too young to care about Mamet back then," he told Kurt.

"I've seen that movie, Noah," said Kurt, shaking his head, "and there's a lot of swearing in it. Your director must be pretty daring to let a bunch of teenagers perform it."

"Yeah, well, that was the reason he chose it this year, because he thought he had enough strong upperclassman guys to pull it off." He sounded proud, but really, Noah's recitation of snippets of Roma's rambling monologues didn't do anything to change Kurt's mind about how edgy the play was:

" 'All train compartments smell vaguely of shit. It gets so you don't mind it. That's the worst thing that I can confess. You know how long it took me to get there? A long time. When you die you're going to regret the things you don't do. You think you're queer...? I'm going to tell you something: we're all queer. You think that you're a thief? So what? You get befuddled by a middle-class morality...? Get shut of it. Shut it out. You cheated on your wife...? You did it, live with it.' "

Kurt heard the words as though through a filter, and he hung on to the one word that jumped out at him. "Queer," he said, distastefully. "You think - ?"

"Hey, these are Roma's words, not mine. Or Mamet's, I guess." Noah was dismissive. "I'm not telling you anything. I'm just putting on a character."

"But do you think he's right?" Kurt persisted. "That we all are?"

"Maybe, a little. Some of us more than others, though. I mean, I'm pretty sure you never thought about a chick the way you think about me, right?"

Kurt felt himself flushing. "Um. Definitely not."

It was true, he'd never thought about a girl the way he thought about Noah. But he'd never thought about another boy the way he thought about Noah, either. For the longest time, he'd just assumed he didn't  _feel_  the way most of the guys in the locker room seemed to, bragging about the girls they dated. But when he and Noah became friends, things had abruptly changed for Kurt. It had been like a magic light switch - not to mention a messy one.

That had been almost two years ago. Since then, his dreams and fantasies had gradually become more detailed and focused, but the subject matter hadn't changed. No matter how many pictures of shirtless men he admired in April Rhodes' muscle magazines, when he closed his eyes, it was always Noah who was there, doing things to Kurt, and letting Kurt do things to him.

But gradually, over that summer, Kurt noticed his familiar fantasies were becoming less satisfying. He wasn't quite sure what to do about that. He knew dreaming about sex was his body's way of dealing with not having it, but what was he supposed to do if he couldn't address his needs when he was awake?

He bit his own tongue for several days before, red-faced and stammering, he decided he had to tell Noah about it. The alternative was asking  _Finn,_  and he really didn't think he could do that, no matter how nice he'd been all summer about sharing a room.

Kurt tried to be casual and bring it up in the middle of a conversation. "You mentioned once that you, um. Think about me, sometimes, when you -"

"Hey, wait," Noah said, startled. "You told me you didn't want to do stuff over the phone."

Kurt scowled. "No. I'm not asking for that."

"Because, trust me, I've been holding off telling you about all the times I thought about you when I -"

" _Noah,"_  he cut in, exasperated. "I'm just saying that - god, I can't believe I'm  _talking_  to you about this."

"Who else would you talk to?" Noah seemed genuinely perplexed. "Like, Mercedes or Tina?"

"No. I just - I don't talk to anybody." He realized he was lowering his voice, even though he was alone in the basement, and there was no way anybody would be able to hear him from upstairs. "I'm saying that I... you know I do that sometimes. And for the past two years I've been thinking about you. And now, when I do, I - can't, and... I don't know what's going on."

Noah was quiet for a moment. "You're saying I don't get you off anymore?"

Kurt twisted his hands together miserably. "I don't... Noah, it's not like we -"

"Well, fuck," he said. "And I never even had a chance to  _really_  do that with you?" Noah didn't sound angry, or even all that upset. It was like he was teasing. This just pissed Kurt off.

"Hey, maybe I'm just ready to trade up to a real boyfriend," he snapped.

"Hey!" Noah protested. "You didn't even give me a chance!"

Kurt felt his anger swell. "Yeah. Sure. What do you mean, I haven't given you a  _chance?_  I'm not sure what  _you've_  been doing for the past year, but I can tell you  _I've_  been waiting for you to get your head out of your ass and decide I'm worth dating."

"That's not what I meant. I mean - Kurt. Come on."

"No, I know what you mean. You told me not to settle, but you think I'm going to let you mess around with me anyway? I'm good enough to fuck, but I'm not good enough for anything else?"

Noah fell silent. When he spoke again, his voice came out lower and richer, resonating inside Kurt. "I think that's the second time I've ever heard you use the word  _fuck,_  Kurt. And I'm  _sure_  it's the first time I've ever heard you apply it to yourself."

"To myself?" Kurt echoed.

"As in... I could  _fuck you."_

Kurt clutched the edge of the mattress. "I don't -" But then he stopped. For the first time, he was consumed by an overwhelming desire to have Noah do  _exactly that._  He choked back a moan.

"You don't what, babe?" Noah said softly. "Don't want that?"

"I never wanted it  _before,"_ he hissed, and heard Noah curse under his breath. He waited, breathing hard, for Noah to say something else, but he didn't. Finally Kurt bit his lip and added, "Do  _you_  want to - ?"

"Yeah, well, I never really did before, either." Noah's laugh was rueful. "So much for not being a queer, huh?"

"Um. Can't exactly help you with that." Kurt shifted uncomfortably on the bed. "I think you might have just helped me, though."

"Helped you with - oh.  _God,_ Kurt." He sounded pained. "You know now I'm going to be thinking about that all fucking day."

"Sorry?" Kurt managed. He glanced behind him once to make sure nobody was on their way down the stairs, and pressed his palm to the bulge in his shorts. The image in his head was  _very_ specific, and dealt with a part of his body he hadn't had much to do with directly, but now he was pretty sure he knew what he wanted  _Noah_  to do with it. He gasped at the intensity of the sensation. "I - I think I'd better -"

"Kurt," Noah said. His voice was intense and controlled. "You don't have to."

"No, I really think I do," Kurt said. He thumbed the phone off, breathing hard, and looked over his shoulder once more in desperation before unzipping his shorts. It took less than twenty seconds to finish himself off, and the whole time, he was imagining Noah  _inside him._  Not just that, but he could see exactly the way he wanted Noah to hold him down, and make him  _take it -_

Kurt found himself reeling, dizzy and aching for something he could scarcely understand. It was the most intense climax he'd ever had, and yet there he was, wanting  _more._ Wanting  _Noah._

He glared at the phone on the bed, feeling unaccountably frustrated with himself. He didn't even bother to wash his hand off; he just wiped it on a tissue before calling Noah back. The phone rang several times, but finally Noah picked up.

"Kurt," he said. Now he sounded a lot less controlled; his voice was ragged and thready. It made Kurt groan a little just to hear it, because he had a pretty good idea of what was making Noah sound that way, and it was far more compelling an idea than it had been even five minutes before.

"I'm an idiot," he said, as conversationally as he could. "And I'm sorry."

Noah sighed. "An idiot for what, exactly?"

"For being a - a prude, I guess, and for not seeing that I - god, we could have been doing this all along, and -" He swallowed. "And I  _really_  want you right now."

"Oh,  _fuck_ ," Noah said in a strangled voice. "Kurt, I can't... do you want me to hang up?"

Kurt closed his eyes. "No," he whispered. "Just let me be here with you."

He knew what Noah was going to do, and there was no way Kurt wasn't going to listen. He held as still as he could, not wanting to miss one moment of this, his first time with anyone - but far more importantly, with Noah.

"Hey, Kurt? You down there?" His dad's voice drifted down the stairs. "Could I get your help with something?"

Kurt scrambled to his feet and managed to make it to the bathroom, tripping over his shorts. He called a hasty, "Busy, dad!" in reply before closing the door as quietly as he could. He heard Noah choke on a laugh.

"I can't count the number of times my mom's walked in on me jacking off, Kurt," said Noah. He sounded remarkably calm, considering the circumstances.

Kurt leaned against the door, muffling his terrified giggles against his hand. "I just can't believe I'm even  _doing_  this."

"Yeah, me either. You  _did_  tell me -" Noah stopped, then sighed. "You told me you didn't want this. And I'm totally taking advantage of you right now."

"No!" Kurt insisted, but Noah didn't let him go on.

"Yeah, I am. Fuck me, I'd let you do it, too." Now he sounded resigned. "Kurt, if you choose to call me back later and tell me you want to listen to me jack off over the phone, you can bet I'll do it for you. But I'm really not convinced you'd want this right now if you weren't so close yourself."

"I, um... I already finished," he admitted.

Noah caught his breath. "You - oh. Really?"

Kurt pressed his lips together, his cheeks burning. "Pathetic?"

" _Hot,"_  Noah assured him with a groan. "Tell me... what I was doing to you, when you came?"

"I -" He stuttered on the answer, gripping himself with his hand as he experienced his body's impossible, immediate response.

"Please, Kurt," he begged, and Kurt felt another surge of desire at the sound. It had never happened that he'd wanted it again so soon after finishing - but then, he'd never had  _this._ Had  _Noah Puckerman's_  voice in his ear, wanting him. It was a million times more effective than his imagination.

"You were -  _taking_ me," Kurt said. The resulting moan from Noah made him thrust into his own fist in desperation.

"You wanted me to fuck you?" said Noah, his words coming out a little uneven.

"Yes," he hissed. He had a very clear image of what Noah might be doing, was probably doing, as he spoke, and he thrust forward again as he heard Noah's breathing speed up.

"I'm gonna do that, babe... gonna fill you up..." Then he stopped abruptly, and gasped, "God -  _Kurt..."_

Kurt wanted to do something, anything, to make Noah know he was there, listening, experiencing it with him, but he couldn't imagine what he could say that wouldn't come out sounding stupid or ridiculous. What he hadn't anticipated was the degree to which Noah's tiny, desperate cries would affect him. By the time Noah sighed in satisfaction, Kurt was completely aroused all over again.

"Holy shit," Noah muttered. "You still there?"

"Yeah," Kurt said. He took his hand off his renewed erection. Then he rolled his eyes at himself, because, really, after what he'd just  _done,_  there was no point at trying to exert any self-control, even if he did have regrets.  _Which I don't,_  he told himself, and gripped himself again defiantly. "Are you - did you, um...?"

"Fuck, yeah," said Noah, chuckling, and yawned. "That was really hot. Are you okay? That was kind of a big deal for you, I know -"

Kurt thrust into his hand again with a little whine, and Noah broke off uncertainly.

"Uh... Kurt...? God, I didn't fuck things up again -?"

"No," he said. "Noah, believe me, I wanted that." He took a deep breath. "I still want it. Again. Right now."

"Oh... yeah?" Noah sounded beyond pleased.  _Delighted,_  Kurt thought, dizzily, and slid down the door to sit on the tile.

"Yeah," he admitted. "Kind of a lot."

"Hang on a sec." He heard some faint rustling, and a few moments later, Noah was back. "You want some help with that?"

Kurt let out his breath slowly. "I - think so? I mean, I don't know if I  _can,_  but..."

"Hey." Noah sounded so gentle, Kurt couldn't help but relax. "You don't have to do anything that doesn't feel good, okay?"

"Okay," he said. He let his eyes close, and laughed shakily. "It feels -  _so_  good."

"Oh, babe," murmured Noah. "Yeah. Wish I could be there to make you feel good."

Kurt whimpered, squeezing himself tighter. "I should probably stop and let my dad know I'm okay..."

"No way," Puck said firmly. "You're not going anywhere. You're in the bathroom, right?"

He leaned his head back against the door. "Yeah."

"You got some lotion or Vaseline or something handy?"

Kurt's hand stilled. He hesitated. "I - Noah."

"You promised you wouldn't do anything that didn't feel good," he cautioned. "Okay?"

"Yeah," Kurt said again, more slowly. "I don't know if I -"

"So let me help you feel good. And if it doesn't, just stop."

Kurt felt a little light-headed, but he managed to lift himself up off the floor far enough to snag the bottle of lotion from the counter. He settled back down onto the tile, staring stupidly at the bottle. "What... um, what should I...?"

"Put some on your hand."

Kurt snapped the top open. "Which - one?"

"Both of them. You've never used lube before?"

"No. Usually I - um. I never thought about it." Even after hearing Noah do that over the phone, he felt mortified at the idea of  _describing_  what he did every night while he thought about Noah. He squeezed some of the lotion onto his palms and smoothed them together, shivering as he wedged the phone between his chin and his shoulder. "You want me to - ?"

"Yeah, babe, You fuck your hand, just like that."

The words prompted an embarrassingly loud noise out of him, and he thrust into his fist, feeling the combination of smooth and tight, the friction eased by the lotion. It was intense and precisely what he needed, and the words  _fuck your hand_  didn't hurt anything either.

"Feels good?"

"Oh," he sighed. " _Yes."_

There was an answering groan from Noah. "I bet you'd like doing that to me."

"Maybe?" he squeaked. "I mean, I never thought I would, but... this is kind of a lot of new territory, Noah..."

"We're not done yet. One of those slick fingers... I want you to slide it in your ass."

"You do? I mean, you want -  _god."_  His finger, just brushing against his opening, inspired a whole new set of intense, improbable sensations, and he gasped, feeling himself clench against the pressure.

"Fuck, yeah, Kurt. I  _want._ Trust me, it's kind of blowing my mind how much I want to... put something inside you."

Kurt whimpered. He could definitely relate to Noah's experience of having his mind blown. Before today, the things Noah was telling him to do would have seemed mostly distasteful. But now - pressing one slippery finger knuckle-deep inside himself, while he stroked with his other slick hand, was enough to make him cry out again. "Oh god," he whined. "Noah..."

"Fuck, this is hot. You feel me fucking you? Do I feel good, babe?"

"I feel... I want..." Kurt moved his hand faster, sensing the tension building. His finger inside did feel good, but it was the _idea_  of Noah being there, doing  _that,_  sliding into him, that made him writhe and shudder. "I wish..."

"I'm right there." Noah's voice, so soft and steady and loving, was almost more than he could bear at that moment. "Right there with you. Tell me what you want."

"You." He closed his eyes again as he let his legs fall open and pressed, forcing the finger deeper. "On top of me."

"God,  _yeah,"_  Noah whispered. "Want that, so much."

Kurt gasped again, the feelings leaping up suddenly, overwhelming him, and he found himself coming and crying simultaneously, thrusting against his fingers. It was almost more than he could bear. Because there he was, sticky and sweating on the floor of his bathroom, and it was supposed to be wonderful - and all he could think about was wanting to feel Noah's arms around him.

"Kurt?" Noah sounded so anxious. "Babe - hey, I said, if you don't like it, you don't have to -"

"No," Kurt said, wiping his face with the back of his hand and trying to catch his breath. He kept the phone against his ear, the muscles in his neck aching at the awkward position, and stood on trembling legs to wash his hands. "No. I liked it. I just - I miss you." He rested against the wall with a sigh, drying his hands on a towel. "That was... um. Intense? And I wish... you were here."

"Yeah?" he said softly. "Me, too. I never seriously thought about doing that with another guy, but... fuck. I'm pretty sure I want to do it with you."

"I know. I feel the same way. That's what made it okay." He stared down at his fingers, cringing a little as he thought about exactly where they had  _been_. "But I really wanted my first time... I wish it could have been with you."

"Hey. It still can be. Unless you're planning on hooking up with some guy this summer. I'll be home in a month, and..." He heard Noah sigh. "We can figure it out then, okay?"

Kurt felt his heart sink a little. He thought he knew what Noah was thinking.  _After the summer, we probably won't be doing this anymore anyway._ "That sounds good," he said. It wasn't quite true, but he wasn't sure what else to say. "I should... make sure my dad knows I'm not unconscious down here or something."

"Okay," said Noah, still sounding a little uncertain. "I love you, Kurt."

The words still thrummed inside him, and Kurt let himself feel them, even through his fear. "I love you too."

Kurt hung up the phone, then pulled up his shorts, buttoning them. He took a wet washcloth and slowly wiped his face, looking at himself in the mirror, overwhelmed by questions.  _Am I different? Did I really do that on the phone, with Noah? Did it count? Am I still a virgin?_  And the biggest, the worst and most impossible to answer:  _should I have said no?_

"You wanted it," he said to his disheveled, flushed reflection. "Don't deny it."

His reflection didn't. But it didn't look exactly happy, either.

* * *

<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cJkoverYzh0>

_Yeah that's me,_   
_Yeah behind you_   
_Hoping that you won't see_   
_That I'm not all_   
_They make me out to be_

_But oh to let you see me_   
_'cause I am not that pretty_   
_But you will find out and then_   
_You will leave me_

_So let me make up_   
_All sorts of excuses_   
_For why we shouldn't do this_   
_Let me think that my heart is not involved_   
_Let me think we're just using each other and_   
_We're equal in our faults_

_But oh to let you see me_   
_'cause I am not that pretty_   
_Oh, but you will find out and then_   
_You will leave me_

_But oh, all of this nervous excitement and_   
_All these reasons to try to get it right and_   
_All this procrastination and all of this_   
_disobedient behavior_   
_is making me crawl_

_But oh to let you see me_   
_'cause I am not that pretty_   
_Oh, but you will find out and then_   
_You will leave me_

_So let me pretend_   
_That this isn't happening,_   
_Let me deny my feelings_   
_Let me just talk and talk and talk_   
_And let me say that this something_   
_Is nothing at all._

_Yeah that's me,_   
_Yeah behind you_   
_Hoping that you won't see_   
_That I am not all_   
_They make me out to be._

_\- Melissa Ferrick, "To Let You See Me"_


	11. Summer 2010 continued

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From here on out it's likely to be rated M and up for sexual activity, but I'll try to warn for it when it's coming up. Consider yourself warned.   
> -amy

Kurt found himself dressing more intentionally the next day, paying attention to the way people were looking at him. He'd always wondered if he would feel different on the inside after being intimate with another boy, or if anybody else would be able to tell from the outside. But the first person he saw that morning was Finn, and all Kurt could do was blush at him across the breakfast table and try to focus on his cereal.

"Any thoughts about what to have for Friday night dinner?" his dad called from the kitchen.

Kurt managed to suggest something lower fat than burgers, but he drove to rehearsal that morning wondering how he was going to make it through the day if this was the level of attention he could muster. He texted Noah as soon as he got there.

_This is kind of ridiculous, but I'm having trouble thinking about anything besides what we did yesterday,_  he typed.

_Dude. your sixteen. I think your allowed to have sex on the brain. besides, im hot._

Kurt grinned, shaking his head.  _I'll concede that point._

Kurt's rehearsals were beginning to shift from working on individual scenes to tying all of the parts together, which meant the whole cast was spending more time together, but it also meant there were more times when they were sitting around doing nothing. Quinn's character didn't have much to do beyond Act One, so Wright had also given her the part of the Giantess, who was simply a voice heard offstage. Kurt sat down next to her in the wings while she waited for her cue.

Quinn barely looked at him other than to give him a cordial nod, but a minute later she commented, "Nice shirt."

"Oh - thanks." He smoothed one of the sleeves. "I suppose summer fashion is largely wasted, seeing as how we're backstage or in costume all month."

"Not entirely wasted." She shrugged, smiling faintly. "Most of the boys around here don't get any further than the discount rack at Sears. So who're you dressing up for?"

"Nobody," Kurt said.

Quinn glanced pointedly at his phone. "What about your boy in New York?"

"Trust me, he's never cared about fashion."

"Who doesn't care about fashion?" said Sam, approaching from behind Quinn. He was wearing a t-shirt and shorts, twirling a floppy hat he was using as a prop in his upcoming scene.

"Kurt's boyfriend at theater camp," Quinn said.

"He's not my boyfriend," Kurt said automatically, but he found himself blushing. "It's complicated. He's... well, he's definitely not the kind of boy I would shop with."

"Then you shop  _for_  him," said Quinn. She turned to the stage, holding a megaphone to her mouth and speaking her Giantess lines in an angry, booming voice. Then she turned back to face Kurt and added, in her usual mild voice, "Just nothing too complicated or fancy. Henleys, polos, classy jeans."

"I'd totally wear anything my girlfriend bought me," Sam agreed. "Even if I thought it was dorky, I'd wear it for her. Especially if she wore it first."

Kurt exchanged a glance with Quinn. "You'd want your girlfriend to wear your shirt?"

"Totally," Sam nodded. "That way it'd smell like her, and I could keep her with me all day."

Quinn watched Sam stride out on stage to meet Michael for the princes' duet. "That's actually a really sweet idea," she murmured. "Even if it is a little hinky, wanting to smell your girlfriend."

"Scent is one of the most powerful carriers of memory," Kurt said. He wasn't sure why he wanted to defend Sam's suggestion. "And we're mammals, after all. We're programmed to be emotionally affected by smells."

They watched Sam as Rapunzel's prince sing his funny duet with Michael, playing Cinderella's prince. "He has a great voice," said Quinn, pointing at Sam. "It's too bad Michael's in jazz band and can't do Glee, but maybe Sam...?"

"Maybe," Kurt agreed. He'd been thinking the same thing. "You should mention it to him."

She shrugged, gazing down at the floor. Kurt looked more closely at her, at the dark circles under her eyes, the tense set to her jaw. He didn't feel like he knew Quinn well enough to ask her what was going on, but he sent a text to Noah over lunch.

_I think Quinn could use some support. She looks exhausted._

_Yeah? ill see what i can do. she doesnt always want to listen to me._

He hesitated, then added,  _If I bought you clothes, would you wear them?_

Noah reply was slower to come this time.  _What, you mean to school?_

_Never mind. Just thinking about your birthday in a few weeks._

_Hey,_  said Noah.  _You remembered._

_I have a good memory,_  Kurt told him. He wasn't going to say he remembered everything Noah had ever told him, but it wasn't too far from the truth.

Family dinner that night was interminable. Kurt finally begged exhaustion following rehearsal and escaped early to the basement, where he went into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. Just one glance at the lotion on the countertop was enough to make him blush and get him halfway hard, but it wasn't embarrassing enough to keep him from texting Noah.

_Thinking about you again,_  he said.  _And I expect I'll be alone for a little while, if you want to call._

He ran a bath while he shed his clothes. Running slick, soapy hands over his body while he waited for Noah to respond didn't do anything to keep him from getting more turned on, but he found himself holding back, remembering how much better it had felt when he knew Noah was listening.

But the longer he waited, the more uncertain and paranoid he became.  _Maybe he doesn't really want it. Maybe he thinks you're embarrassing and perverted. Maybe he's laughing at you right now with his friends._

And then the phone rang, and he scrambled to rinse and dry off his hands to turn on the speakerphone. "Hey," he said, as calmly as he could.

"What the fuck," Noah complained with good humor. "I'm in the middle of dinner, and I get this smoking hot text from a guy back home, saying he's alone and thinking about me. What, does he expect me to go on with my meal pretending I'm not sporting a huge boner for him?"

Kurt laughed in relief, leaning back in the bath. He propped his knees up, spreading his legs, and soaped up his hands again. "Be glad I waited until the end of the day."

"Oh, sure, babe; that's all I need. A booty call in the middle of rehearsal. It's already hard enough to keep my mind off you." Kurt could hear Noah's smile, and it made him flush with pleasure and anticipation.

"I promise I won't send you anything inappropriate in the middle of rehearsal," he said. "No matter how hot you are. I know how much you care about your work."

"Yeah." He heard a door close, and Noah's voice grew lower and more intimate, sending shivers through his body. "I care about it a lot."

Kurt closed his eyes, resting his soapy hands on his knees, stroking along the length of the insides of his thighs. "Are you - alone?"

"Sure am, babe. Just me and my huge boner."

The words shot straight to his cock, and he moaned, taking himself in his hand. He squeezed lightly, then gently rocked his hips forward, thrusting into his hand. The motion had an entirely new meaning now. "God... yeah. Me too."

"Remember that lotion you had yesterday? I've got some right here."

"Oh," Kurt whispered. He leaned in, tensing his stomach muscles and stroking more firmly. "Um - yeah?"

"I'm getting my hands all slick for you. You like that?"

"Yeah. It - it's like your hands are on me, right now."

He heard Noah take a breath, then let out a little groan. "Fuck. Yeah. I can't wait, babe. I've been thinking about that for months. Tell me what you're doing."

"I'm, um, in the bath? And... well, I've got soap on my hands, and I'm... sitting here." He dropped to a whisper. "Fucking my hand."

"Oh,  _fuck,_ Kurt," Noah moaned, and Kurt thrust into his slick hand with a whimper. "Hearing you say that... okay, yeah, so that's me, sitting behind you, holding your cock, and that's my hand you're fucking. Feel that?"

Kurt tried to keep the splashing to a minimum, but he couldn't help sliding his other soapy fingers down between his legs, and pushing his cock forward into his hand. "I feel it," he promised. "So good..."

"Yeah, I can hear it. I'm so fucking hard for you." He listened to Noah's breathing, and he never knew  _breathing_  could be so hot, but it was all he could hear now, each little hitch and tempo change, until he was hanging on the sounds, right on the edge.

"Noah, I'm..." He made one more thrust with his hips, letting his soapy finger slip inside, and gasped out, " _God -"_

"Yeah, babe, that's it, just like that..." Noah's words held him pinned as he came, and he struggled to keep his voice from cresting into a cry as Noah joined him. "I feel it. Wanna be there, fucking you, so tight-"

They actually managed to keep it reasonably quiet, but in the moment, Kurt felt like the whole house was going to hear Noah choking out his name and the word  _fuck,_ over and over again. He let his hands drop into the water, leaning back against the wall as he relaxed.

"Noah," he said, and laughed, feeling helplessly giddy.

"Yeah," Noah agreed. "Totally."

He leaned forward, rinsing his hands off in the now-tepid water. "Is it always like that?"

"Like what? Awesome?" Noah chuckled. "Mostly, yeah. Why? You wondering why you waited so long?"

"Not exactly." He stood, reaching for a towel, feeling oddly self-conscious to be standing there naked with Noah listening. "Wondering if it's... because I love you, that it feels so good, or if it's the other way around, that feeling so good makes me love you?"

"More thinking than I can handle right now." Noah sighed in contentment. "Mmm. Hey, you're not going to give up on reading to me now that we're doing this, are you? Cause I kind of missed you last night."

The memory of Noah's arm around him, lying in his bed beside him while he read the first chapter of  _Shadow of the Hegemon,_  swept over Kurt. The pain of missing him was almost physical. Kurt sank to sit on the edge of the tub, clutching the towel to his stomach.

"Not giving up on that," Kurt agreed, shivering. "I won't."

He wanted to demand,  _And you're not going to give up on doing this with me when you come home?_  But he held his tongue. He was too afraid of the answer. This, right here, was going to have to be enough.

* * *

The next day was Saturday. Kurt went to the mall and bought Noah a black long-sleeved Henley, guessing at the size. He put it on self-consciously and wore it around the house all day, expecting his father or Finn or Carole to comment about his radically different fashion choice, but they either ignored it or didn't notice.

He looked up Noah's address on the camp web site, figuring something labeled with his name and the address of the hall where they were staying would be enough to get it to him. On Monday, he slid the shirt into a padded envelope, along with a card, and took it to the post office. The card read simply  _Happy birthday, Noah - Love, Kurt._ He wanted to write something more, but things were still so new and tentative, and Noah's willingness to acknowledge anything about their relationship so limited, he decided not to push it.

But the very next evening after rehearsal, Noah told him, "I got a shirt in the mail today for my birthday."

"Oh!" Kurt was startled. "That was quick. I didn't expect it to get there until Friday at the earliest."

"You - what? Did she tell you she was sending it?"

He paused. "Who?"

"Quinn. She sent it to me. It's nice. Smells like her."

Kurt found himself feeling vaguely betrayed, which of course was ridiculous. "Oh. I didn't know she was going to send you one. I - well. You'll get my gift in a few days."

Noah was appreciative of Kurt's shirt when it arrived, too, and he even sent him a text of a grainy picture of himself wearing it, grinning. Kurt saved the picture, but he didn't mention the shirt again. He wondered, though: what had prompted Quinn, who'd said flat out she wasn't dating anybody, to buy a shirt, wear it and send it to her ex-boyfriend?

Over the next few weeks, Noah and Kurt's pattern shifted somewhat to accommodate their additional activities, but it was surprisingly not all that different than it had been before they started being sexual together. The biggest difference was the effort to which Kurt had to go to keep their conversations private. Imagining his dad or Finn or Carole, or Quinn or one of the other actors at the Encore, walking in on him having a conversation with Noah was a lot less anxiety-provoking than imagining them walking in on Noah talking him to orgasm. So far it hadn't happened, but just the _idea_  of them finding him in that vulnerable of a state was upsetting, all by itself.

The opportunity to be sexual with Noah, however, was unbelievably seductive, and quashed most of his fears about being discovered. Now that he was rooming with Finn, waiting until night for that kind of activity was impractical. Kurt found himself repeatedly breaking his agreement not to send Noah inappropriate invitations during rehearsal. He discovered the tinted windows in his Navigator afforded more privacy than either the bathroom at the Encore or his bedroom at home. More often than not, Kurt would call Noah on his way out the door to his car, and he would be hard before even locking the doors and unzipping his jeans.

Noah was an enthusiastic participant in their phone calls, and he never once made Kurt feel embarrassed for wanting it, nor for asking for it. Kurt let Noah take the lead in suggesting fantasies, and they never failed to be hot and satisfying. But eventually he realized that Noah was always casting himself in the active role. Not that Kurt minded this, exactly; once Noah had introduced him to the wonders of lube, Kurt had wholeheartedly embraced the pleasures of penetration. He thought it was only fair that he return the favor, but he felt a little anxious about how to bring it up.

"Dress rehearsal for  _Henry_  tomorrow," Noah reminded him when he called after rehearsal. "I'll be glad to dig into  _Glengarry_  after we're done with performances. Ricky Roma's third scene monologue is fucking awesome. Listen to this." He slipped into the tough accent he'd assumed for the part of the real estate salesman: 'I do those things which seem correct to me today. I trust myself. And if security concerns me, I do that which today I think will make me secure. And every day I do that, when that day arrives that I need a reserve, [a] odds are that I have it, and [b] the true reserve that I have is the strength that I have of acting each day without fear... according to the dictates of my mind.' Doesn't that kill you? Mamet's just got this pacing..." Noah let out a satisfied sigh.

"It's a fantastic part." Kurt climbed into the Navigator and settled into his seat, locking the doors. "I imagine you're tired, with your rehearsal schedule this week."

"Not too bad," said Noah. "I've been sleeping late."

"Mmm." Kurt reached into the glove compartment for the bottle of lotion he kept there, resting his other hand on the zipper of his pants. "And you've got a little time to kill?"

"You know I do, babe," said Noah, smiling. "You in your car?"

"I am." Kurt thought having a connection between the Navigator and sex might someday come back to haunt him, but for now, he could live with getting an erection when he sat down in his driver's seat. He switched over to speaker and set the phone on the console, dropping his pants and briefs to the floor. "It's been a long afternoon. I've been thinking about doing this for the last hour."

"Yeah... I guess that means you're pretty turned on, huh? Let me hear it."

Kurt took himself in his hand, gripping tight, and let himself moan the way Noah liked it before adding a little lotion to his palm. "Would you get your lube, too?"

"Sure, babe. I wanna feel you in my hand."

Kurt found the sound of Noah snapping the cap off the bottle far more erotic than he probably should. He tried to slow down, wanting it to last, but it had already been a tense day, and imagining what he wanted to do to Noah was inspiring him. He circled his opening with one idle finger, then pushed inside with a gasp. "Want you inside me," he insisted.

"Yeah," Noah purred. "I'll give you that... when I'm ready."

Kurt shifted forward, bringing his legs up to his chest, feeling the stretch inside. He imagined his own fingers couldn't possibly feel as good as Noah on top of him would, and he sighed. "Want to be inside you, too."

Noah's pause was longer this time, and when he spoke again, he sounded a little less certain. "Sure, babe... you can have that, if you want."

"Please?" Kurt let himself nudge into his own slick hand, making it tight, daring to imagine Noah around him. "You'll let me slide a finger inside you? Not too deep." Noah's breathing caught, and Kurt was right there, anticipating his sensation. "God... that feels so good."

"Yeah?" Noah still sounded skeptical, but Kurt could tell he was still invested. "You like that?"

"So much," Kurt promised. He wasn't kidding. He added more lotion to his fingertips. "It's so hot, Noah. Another finger?"

"Um... Kurt..."

"Let me fill you up," he said, keeping his voice breathy, and he heard Noah make a high, faint noise, like  _oh._  "It feels so good when you do it for me. Let me show you."

"God," he muttered. "Yeah, okay. Just... hang on." Kurt waited for a few long moments, the steady hand on his own erection and fingers inside himself not quite enough to satisfy himself. "All right. I'm - I'm ready."

Kurt shivered, spreading himself wider. "Ready for two fingers?"

"Not... exactly. I'm just... can we do this?"

He paused. "Noah? What is it? It really does feel good, you know I love it -"

"I know," he said gruffly. "You gonna fuck me or what? Come  _on,_  man."

"Oh... yes." Kurt thrust into his hand slowly, making it as tight as he dared, and groaned in frustration. He heard Noah's own quiet grunts. "I wish I could really be there, to slide inside you... to fill you up..."

" _Fuck,"_  he heard Noah swear, and his rough breathing accelerated, became erratic.

"You feel me?" Kurt dared ask. "Inside you?"

"Yeah...  _shit,_  I feel you. Come on, babe, fuck me hard -"

That was all the words he got out of Noah; Kurt sat there, breathless, and listened to him come apart, moaning loudly. Finally, there was silence.

"Noah?" he said tentatively. "Are you - okay?"

"Yeah."

"You - um. You didn't have to do that if -"

"Hey, you heard me. I loved it." Noah sounded angry. "All right? Now you know. I love being fucked."

"Okay," said Kurt softly. "That's - that's good. Isn't it?"

"Yeah. Whatever." Noah sighed, sharp and bitter. "It's great. You can tell all your fucking friends that Noah Puckerman loves to take it up the ass. Go right ahead."

Kurt felt his blood turn to ice. He let his legs slip down to the floor, his own arousal subsiding. "I'm not going to tell anybody."

"Sure. I know you're dying to tell the whole fucking school about us. Why not? I'm just a fucking joke anyway. Might as well be Kurt Hummel's butt-buddy."

"Is that who I am to you?" he snapped. His hand clenched on his leg.

"That's what everybody's going to say. You can't deny it. If people find out the truth, they're going to destroy me."

"I'm delighted to hear you think so little of me," Kurt said coldly. "I seem to recall something about  _love_  passing your lips just last night."

Noah was getting more worked up with every sentence. "This isn't about what I think. It's about what everybody else in the fucking state of fucking Ohio thinks. Everybody here, the gay kids, they tell me what it's like for them back home. How they get tormented and teased every day. Just like you. I'm not gonna be their victim, Kurt."

"Yeah. You know what, Noah? You already are." Kurt fought back the tears, struggling to pull his pants up. "I can't believe I was such an idiot to trust you."

"Hey!" Noah shouted. "Don't make this about me."

"It's  _always_  been about you," he bit out. "Because you're too scared to be the man I know is hiding inside that little boy."

"Yeah. Because everybody wants to take advantage of the kind of  _man_  I am." Kurt thought Noah might be crying now, but he wasn't stopping long enough for Kurt to try to comfort him. "I know what I am, Kurt. I'm an actor. That's what I've always been, and that's what I'm gonna be, for the rest of my life. I'd better get used to it."

"Noah -" Kurt protested, but Noah had already disconnected the call. When Kurt tried to call him back, he didn't pick up. Kurt leaned his head back against the seat, closing his eyes. " _Shit."_

Kurt drove home and suffered through Friday family dinner in silence, ignoring the uneasy glances Carole kept giving his father. Then he went downstairs to sit on his bed and stare pointlessly at a book until Finn came down to sit on the bed across from him.

Finn leaned his elbows uncomfortably on his knees. "Hey... so, you've been pretty wrapped up in this play, this summer."

"Musical, Finn." Kurt shrugged. "I suppose."

"And I know that you've... well, that there's a guy." Finn gave him a meaningful look when Kurt glanced sharply at him. "Dude, I'm not stupid. You're moping around, and you're always on the phone, and - um, I've heard you in the bathroom more than once."

Kurt felt his face go crimson. "It's nothing," he said. "The guy. He's... he doesn't really love me. Not the way he said he did. I'm just feeling like an idiot tonight for trusting him."

"I know how that feels," Finn said quietly. "After what Rachel did, with Jesse... I didn't know if I should trust her, either. But that doesn't mean I don't love her." He watched Kurt's face. "You think... this guy, you think he loves you? Even if he's a jerk?"

"Maybe. I don't know." Kurt sat there cradling all the words Noah had given him, all the quotations and sonnets, all the words gasped out in the middle of moments shared over the phone. He sighed. "Yeah, I think he does."

Finn gave him a lopsided smile. "So, what, you're gonna call him and say you forgive him? For being a jerk? Because I think it would be better than this."

"I've been trying." Kurt held up his phone. "He hasn't been answering."

"Leave him a voicemail, then. Whatever." Finn stood, resting an awkward hand on Kurt's shoulder. "Good luck, man."

"Thanks," Kurt said, touched despite himself. He smiled at Finn. "You're being really cool about this, considering."

Finn looked puzzled. "Considering what?"

Kurt opened his mouth to say  _considering I'm in love with your best friend,_  but he decided he couldn't do it. He couldn't out Noah, even if Finn had probably guessed it anyway. "Considering we have to share a room."

"Yeah, well, it sounds like my mom's gonna have to move back to the house pretty soon." Finn shrugged. "The real estate market sucks. There was something about paying taxes if you don't live in your primary residence for more than half the year. Anyway, I get my old room back, for a little while, anyway."

"I'll miss you," Kurt said, and he thought he might actually mean it. Finn smiled.

"Call your guy," he advised. "It sucks to wait around for the person you love to call you. Maybe he'll answer this time."

As Finn climbed the stairs, Kurt thumbed redial for the eighth time that night. There wasn't any reason for Noah to pick up now instead of the times Kurt had called before, but for some reason, he did.

"Hey," said Noah. There was a pause, and then a cough. "I told you I was still an asshole, didn't I?"

"You did," Kurt agreed. "And I love you anyway."

"Yeah?" Noah said softly. Kurt sighed.

"Yes. And I can't blame you for being scared of people treating you the way they treat me. I wouldn't choose it, if I had a choice, but I don't. I'm just not as good an actor as you are."

Noah's bitter tone tore at Kurt's heart. " 'The true reserve that I have is the strength that I have of acting each day without fear... according to the dictates of my mind.' Yeah. What a fucking joke. Ricky Roma's more of a man than I am."

Kurt softened his voice. "Hey... what we did today. Liking that,  _wanting_  that... it doesn't make you any less of a man."

Noah sighed. "I don't think I can hear that right now, Kurt. But thanks for trying, anyway. And... just, thanks. For not giving up on me."

"I don't think I could do that, not really. Loving you, it's not something that goes away when things are hard."

"Yeah." Noah's voice slipped to a whisper. "That's pretty amazing."

Kurt reached for the book sitting on his bedside table. "Are you ready for me to read to you?"

"I - don't think so. Not tonight."

He let his hand fall back to the bed, trying not to feel hurt. "Okay. We can try again tomorrow."

"Sure, yeah. Thank you. Good night, Kurt."

Kurt watched the clock tick away the minutes until it was eleven, and then he turned off the light and lay staring up at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to claim him.

* * *

Kurt tried to keep an eye on Quinn the following week, but either she was avoiding him or the rehearsals were effectively keeping them separated. Either way, he barely saw her again until Thursday, when they found each other backstage at the same time. Kurt tried to smile normally.

"Hey," he said. "Noah told me you sent him a birthday present."

She looked startled, and - guilty? Something beyond wary, anyway. "Yeah," she said. "I sent him a shirt." Then she frowned at him. "Wait, how do you know about that?"

"He's not who you think he is, you know," Kurt said. Quinn raised an eyebrow.

"We'll see," she replied. "He's really good at appearing to be just another Lima loser, but I know he isn't that."

"No," Kurt agreed. That was all he would say.

He saw Quinn talking to Sam later, but mostly she continued to keep to herself, looking exhausted and haunted. There wasn't much more that Kurt could do other than watch and wait for rehearsal to be over. He didn't even hurry to his car to call Noah, but hung around afterwards, waiting for Mrs. Wright to be done talking to the other performers and the stage manager. Eventually she turned to him, smiling.

"How's your summer going, Kurt?" she asked, gesturing for him to take a chair across from her. He did, trying to imagine what he could say that would make sense in a short amount of time.

"I'm regretting not auditioning for Usdan summer theater camp," he said finally. She nodded.

"It's not cheap," she said. "Or easy to get into. But... if you're asking me if you think you had a shot, the answer is yes."

He was startled into a smile. "Really?"

"As much as I'd hate to lose you next summer, I'd be more than willing to write you a recommendation." She considered him. "You might want to think about participating in the theater club at the university next year. Without Ryerson around, there isn't likely to be an opportunity to do theater at McKinley."

"Mr. Schue said he might do a fall musical," Kurt offered. Mrs. Wright smiled kindly.

"Have you heard from Noah? I was wondering if he ended up doing  _Henry V_  as he'd hoped."

"No, he didn't get Henry; he's playing the Montjoy. But he did get Ricky Roma in  _Glengarry Glen Ross._ "

Mrs. Wright shook her head in amazement. "Well... I can say that Bryce certainly isn't afraid to take risks. I'm sure Noah is enjoying doing that show. Do you plan on driving out to see him perform again this summer?"

Kurt shook his head. "I don't think I can do that, not without missing a performance here."

"Oh, well... it'd be a long drive on the night of our last show," she agreed. "And I imagine you'd be exhausted. But you could take an overnight bus, or find a friend to drive with, if you were motivated. I thought - well. Perhaps you'll do me the courtesy of telling me, if you do decide to go?"

"Sure," he said, a little overwhelmed. He hadn't even considered an overnight bus. He could probably afford that, or even the train, if he - He nodded, more confidently this time. "Yes. Of course. Thank you."

That night, before getting ready for bed, Kurt looked up bus and train fares to Long Island. What he learned was discouraging; he'd have to take a bus to Toledo and then the train was over 20 hours from there; the bus wasn't much better and didn't travel overnight anyway.

He sent a text to Andrea with a sense of futility.  _You feeling a yen to road trip with me again in a couple weeks?_

_Could be,_ she texted back.  _Once the summer semester's over, I'll be free. Where is the Hummel wandering urge taking you?_

_Back to Long Island. I can't promise it'll end any better than it did last summer._

_I'll check with my parents and get back to you. Your dad already said yes?_

Kurt didn't bother to answer that. He had enough confidence in his ability to persuade his dad to let him go. Then he said good night to Carole and his dad and went downstairs. Finn was already in bed, the lights turned down low.

"Okay if I read to Noah before I go to sleep?" he asked.

Finn shifted in bed, and for a moment Kurt wondered if he was awake after all. Then he spoke, not in reply.

"Your guy," he said, his voice low. "Is it... Do I know him?"

Kurt pursed his lips. "I'm not sure if you do, Finn."

It might have been too late for Finn to deal with a cryptic answer, or perhaps he was tired enough to take Kurt's response at face value. Either way, Finn didn't speak again, and once Kurt had gotten ready for bed, he was snoring lightly.

Noah picked up on the second ring. "Hey," he said, sounding much more normal than he had before.

"Hey. I'm... I was thinking about driving out to see your last performance."

"Oh." Kurt wasn't sure how to interpret the tenor of his answer, but when he asked for clarification, he guessed Noah was just confused. "I didn't think you could this year."

"I'd have to leave after our last performance on Saturday night and drive straight through overnight to get there before your last matinee on Sunday, and then you'd be tearing down and getting ready to come home anyway. I just don't know if it's worth it."

"I know. I'm just - it would mean a lot to me to have you there, but that's a fucking long drive. I wouldn't expect you to do it."

"If Andrea can go, I can go too. I'll let you know, all right? I'd really like to see you perform."

"I'd really like to kiss you," Noah said. Kurt caught his breath and held it, and Noah went on. "I mean... I'd like to do a hell of a lot of things. But I could... kiss you. Here. I could be... what you need."

Awareness prickled over him. "Noah," he breathed. "Are you  _out_  at camp?"

He chuckled, somewhat unhappily. "Kind of. I mean, practically everybody's bi anyway. I didn't want to disappoint them, so... yeah. I told people. About you, and me."

Kurt was silent, struggling with the emotions he felt. One of them was pride at Noah risking his status just to talk about him, about them. Another was frustration at Noah's glacial pace; still another was distrust in Noah's honesty. After what had happened with Finn and Carole, he wasn't sure it would make sense to put any faith in him at all.

"That's... wow. I mean -"

"Never mind," said Noah tersely. "You can come if you want, but don't make it a big deal. I'll be back in a couple weeks."

"Yeah." Kurt sighed. "But you're not going to kiss me in the fall."

"Kurt," Noah began, but Kurt cut him off.

"You're not going to. I'm telling you. It's not because I don't want it, Noah. It's because  _nothing has changed._  You, me, the world... they're all the same as they were before we started messing around this summer."

"I'm not, Kurt," insisted Noah. "I'm different. I'm  _not_  the same as I was in the spring. But if you're asking if I'm ready to stand up on the stage and tell the world I like getting fucked in the ass, well -"

"That's beside the point," Kurt argued. He was tired, so goddamn tired, of  _arguing_  about this. "You can like any kind of sex you want, but it doesn't make you gay. The only thing that makes you gay is being in love with another boy. And I think you qualify."

"Kurt." Noah sounded almost desperate. "Are you telling me I'm going to get back to Lima after camp is over and you're  _not_  going to let me kiss you?"

Kurt closed his eyes, scarcely believing what he was doing. "Yeah. That's what I'm telling you. Now... do you still want me to come visit you in New York, even if I'm not going to -"

"Yeah." Noah sighed. "Yeah. I still want you to come, if you can."

"I'll let you know if I'm coming, then." He flipped through what was left of their book. "We didn't get through much reading this summer."

"I think we got through a lot more important stuff, though."

Kurt had to smile. "Maybe? It was... really good, anyway."

"Yeah. It was. The best, Kurt."

Kurt managed to get through the rest of the chapter they were on without crying. He said  _I love you,_  trying not to be so attached to hearing Noah's response. But once he hung up, he smothered himself in his pillow, letting the sobs out into the silence of their bedroom. He took the time to say goodbye, to mourn all the things he would miss in the fall, here where nobody else could hear or see him hurting.

* * *

<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lmzmD9OdlVA>

_I heard love can fall so hard, it can bury a kingdom_  
 _I heard it makes the spring appear out of season_  
 _It's a storm in a shadowbox, a force to be reckoned with,  
_ _When it finds you and find you, it will._

_And I'd not believed it til I loved, I love_  
 _The rivers sing and stars awaken above me_  
 _And the wind and the moon in fits of restless conspiring  
_ _Turn night to heaven for you._

_But I am going to a far, far land_  
 _I know it sure as I've a past and a future_  
 _With my maps on the table, you see, I have lost many things  
_ _So many I won't turn back._

_And were I a deadwood ship, my heart a compass_  
 _I would leave with inanimate grace, no love could touch me_  
 _But I live and I know that I'll burn as I grow  
_ _Though it might break my heart to walk away and so_

_As a moon may adore you and remain, high moon_  
 _The wind may crown your head with leaves, and keep blowing_  
 _So I'll stop and I'll watch you, for I love, I love  
_ _And then be on my way_

_\- Dar Williams, "I Love, I Love (Traveling II)"_


	12. Summer 2010, part three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for my late posting; I was crying my way through Les Mis in the movie theater this evening. I will take this opportunity to say Russell Crowe should never, ever sing. No warnings for this chapter, other than the usual angst. Thank you, as always, for your thoughtful comments, and to all the readers who never comment, I appreciate you too.   
> -amy

They did a complete runthrough of the entire show of  _Into the Woods_  the next day, and Kurt had to admit it was turning out really well. He appreciated playing the part of Jack, the wide-eyed young boy becoming a young man, but the show itself had turned out to be meaningful, too. The first act encompassed all the familiar fairy tale stories, intertwined in a complicated, amusing tangle. The second act, however, told what happened after those stories were done - all the things  _after_  the happily ever afters. Most of them weren't so happy, and Kurt had never felt this so keenly before.

He glanced at his phone as he received a text, and felt his stomach sink.  _I can't go to New York,_  said Andrea.  _My aunt and uncle are coming that week. I'm sorry, Kurt._

He sighed, and typed back,  _It's okay._

"What?" asked Quinn. He looked up to see her watching him. "What happened?"

"I was going to New York to see... my friend perform," he said. "But the girl I was going to drive with can't go."

"You need somebody to drive with?" He nodded, and Quinn bit her lip. "I could go with you."

"You?" he blurted. She hardened her expression.

"Sure. I'm a safe driver. Maybe I wouldn't be the best company, but..."

"Um. No, it's not that." Kurt had no idea how to get himself out of this. "Just... I think it would be better if I didn't go, anyway. It's a long drive."

"Yeah. I understand." Quinn looked away. They didn't speak again until rehearsal was nearly over, when Mrs. Wright approached him as he was putting away his props backstage.

"Kurt," she said, "I was thinking about what we'd talked about earlier, about you going to visit Noah in New York to see his performance."

Kurt froze, feeling Quinn's eyes on him as Mrs. Wright said the word  _Noah_. Quinn wasn't dumb. She would surely put it together. He tried not to panic, and nodded. "I don't think I'm going to be able to go, after all."

"Well, if you do, I would be happy to give you a letter of introduction for you to pass on to Bryce, Noah's director. That kind of personal connection could make a difference, when it comes time to audition next year." She put a hand on his shoulder. "Just let me know."

"I will," he said. He avoided looking at Quinn as Mrs. Wright departed, but she went right over to him anyway.

"Noah." The word was loaded with possibility. Kurt winced.

"It's a long story," he said.

"I can only imagine. But... Kurt." She put a hand on his arm, and when he looked at her at last, her expression was pained. "He's going to break your heart. You do know that, don't you?"

"He already has," he said, shrugging. "I can't do much about that."

She nodded. "Would you... I'd like to drive with you. And I promise I won't tell anybody anything."

Kurt nodded back, slowly. "I think I believe that. Thank you. I'll have to ask my dad."

His dad said yes, though it was a hard sell, and he had to promise he would nap if he got tired on the drive. Kurt decided, after much deliberation, he had better not tell Noah about Quinn coming along. It was going to be hard enough for Noah, being up on stage knowing Kurt was in the audience, without adding to his anxiety.

He spoke to Noah only briefly each day for the rest of the week, as they moved into earnest rehearsals for their respective shows. By evening they were both exhausted. Neither of them had brought up more intimate matters in days, as much as Kurt missed it. He could feel their time ticking away together. The possibilities that had seemed so broad and powerful at the beginning of the summer had diminished to little more than bitter regret.

Kurt realized he felt regret, too, for not being more invested in the musical. He watched the other performers hug one another before dress rehearsal, and was surprised at how disconnected he was from the rest of them.  _I think that's how Quinn feels, too,_  he thought, seeing her standing apart from the cast and crew. This made him feel, oddly enough, more connected to her. He went over to her and took her hand. She blinked at him.

"Are you glad you did the show?" he asked. She gave him a little smile.

"Yeah," she admitted. "I don't know if I'll do it next year, but... this summer, I think it might have saved my life."

"Theater's like that," he agreed. "Even if you don't ever do it again, I'm glad you did, too. You're really good."

She shook her head. "I'm okay. You, though - you're really talented, Kurt."

"You should see Noah," he said, and smiled as her eyes widened. "Yeah. You'd never believe it without seeing it yourself. He's playing the lead in a summer theater group."

" _That's_  what he's doing on Long Island?" she murmured. "He wouldn't say, just that his dad made him go... I thought it was punishment."

"It's something he's done all his life. He's got something really special, but he doesn't want to tell anybody about it."

She nodded, watching his face. "You're talking about the acting. Aren't you?"

Kurt felt his voice catch as he tried to reply, and he had to stop, clenching his jaw against the tears. "Yes. The acting."

Quinn's face went soft, and she pulled him into a sudden hug. "I'm sorry, Kurt."

"Thank you," he whispered. Her sympathy, for whatever it was worth, was more than welcome at that moment, and he wasn't going to pass it up.

* * *

Neither Mercedes nor Tina were able to make it back in time to see their final performance, but Finn was there in the audience, and his dad and Carole, and most of the rest of Glee. The final curtain brought little triumph, only relief, and anticipation at the coming eight-hour drive.

He texted Noah as he took off his makeup.  _We're done now. I'll be heading out in about an hour. How'd your performance go?_

_We kicked ass,_  said Noah.  _though I dont know if the audience really knew what to make of us. its a hell of a show. im really glad youre coming._

_Yeah?_  Kurt imagined Noah's expression would be when he saw Quinn there with him.  _You're sure about that?_

_fuck yeah. i miss you._

_I miss you, too,_  he said. It wasn't just the talking, or just the sex, or just the touch. It was all of it, together. But Kurt wasn't sure how he was going to be able to ask for that, with the way things were between them. He guessed he would have to wait and see how things went.  _Don't get too drunk at the cast party._

_Dont hold your breath,_  replied Noah.

Kurt found Finn and Carole and his dad waiting outside the dressing room. He accepted hugs from each of them.

"That was awesome," Finn marveled. "I totally want to do that next summer." He caught Quinn as she walked by. "Hey - you were great! Was that you doing the Giant's wife?"

"I got to be big and scary," she smiled, nodding. "Kurt, we should get going."

Carole and Burt both made them promise to drive the speed limit, and to repeat the agreement to stop when they got tired. "I'll take the first shift driving," Quinn offered as they made their way through the crowded parking lot to their cars. "I don't sleep so well, since the baby was born."

"I don't think I could sleep if I tried, right now," Kurt said. But he followed her as she drove back to her mom's house and handed her the keys to the Navigator, anyway.

They drove in silence for a few minutes, Kurt choosing the music. Then, once they were on I-80 and pointing in the right direction, Quinn turned to him, looking resolute.

"Puck never told me about the theater. But it sounds like it's a big deal for him." She watched Kurt's hesitant nod. "And... he's really your guy in New York?"

"We've been trying not to be in love for two years," he said. "He's still trying to deny it. He's terrified what other people would say if they found out."

She nodded, and let out a long, thoughtful sigh. "I guess I'm not too surprised to find out there were things I didn't know about Puck. He doesn't talk much about himself. I didn't even get invited over to his house for almost a year after I met him."

"Me, either," Kurt agreed. He told Quinn the story of how he and Noah had met the summer after eighth grade, and how he began tutoring him. She laughed out loud at the idea of Sarah thinking he was a girl.

"She's kind of adorable," she said. "His mom, though... whew. She's as bad as my dad."

"You haven't met his dad, though?" Kurt asked. She shook her head. He described Aaron, and the Dayton opera house, and his stroke. Quinn listened, absorbed, without interruption. When he was done, she shook her head.

"You didn't tell Puck I was coming, did you?" she asked.

"No," he admitted. "I think he would have freaked out. This way, it'll be too late, and he won't know until after the show anyway. Noah hasn't told anybody back home. Not even Finn, although I think he may have figured it out." He stared her down resolutely. "You  _can't_  tell anybody else."

"I told you I wouldn't," she said. "And I won't. Puck's a jerk, but he's also sweet, and he was really good to me while I was pregnant. I think if I'd have told him I wanted to keep the baby, he would have stayed with me and helped me raise her."

"Do you wish you'd done that?" Kurt asked. Quinn didn't answer for a moment. When he looked more closely, he realized she was crying. "Oh - Quinn, I'm sorry, I didn't -"

"No," she said, sniffing and wiping her nose on her wrist. "No. I don't wish it. And... I wish it every day." Her voice broke, and Kurt passed her a tissue, waiting anxiously for her to calm down.

"You miss her," he said. She nodded.

"More than I can explain. And more than I wish I did. I  _want_  to let go, but... I can't." She glanced over at him. "I'm guessing you understand something about that."

"Yeah," Kurt agreed. "I really do."

Then he jumped as his phone rang. He hesitated, looking from the screen to Quinn. "Um..."

"Go ahead," she said. "I'll just drive."

He took a breath and let it out as he answered. "Hey."

"You're on the road?" Noah asked, his voice only a little slurred.

"Yeah, I'm getting close to Sandusky. It'll be another nine hours, at least."

"Long drive." Noah's inebriated voice dropped to a seductive murmur. "So that means you could take a little break."

"Um," Kurt squeaked, feeling his face flush. "I really don't think I -"

"Come on, babe," Noah groaned, "you can't tell me we're really done with that. I miss you so much, and I can't stop thinking about you... let me get you off, come on..."

"I really can't. Not right now. I'm - it would make me too sleepy, for the drive." He closed his eyes against Quinn's sharp glance.

"Aww." Noah's grumbled disappointment was almost too much for Kurt to take. "You can just sit there and listen to me put my hands all over myself, then... god, Kurt, you're just so fucking  _hot..._ "

" _Noah,"_ he hissed. " _Later._  I have to - concentrate on the road." Quinn looked like she was close to losing control of her laughter. He huffed. "Trust me, I'd rather be doing that then driving, but I should probably get back to it."

"Yeah, I get it." Noah sighed. "Well, call me later when you want to take a break. I don't mind being woken up for a good cause."

"I'll think about it," he promised.  _Yeah. Like I'm going to be able to think about anything else, now._ "You should go to bed."

"I love you so much, babe."

"I -" Kurt took another desperate look over at Quinn, who was biting her lip, and he sighed. "I love you, too." Her mouth shaped into an  _oh,_  and her eyes became round. Kurt glared at her, shaking his head. "Bed, now."

"Yeah... one guess as to what I'll be doing. Naked, hard, so hot for you -"

"Good night, Noah," he said emphatically, and thumbed off the phone, putting his hands to his mortified face. "God..."

"He told you he loved you?" She sounded incredulous. "And was he trying to get you to have  _phone sex_  with him? In the  _car?"_

"Please, Quinn," he begged, "don't. He just came from the cast party, and he was drunk, and -"

"Kurt. It's fine." She was grinning. "I think I've got to believe you now, even if I didn't quite before. No matter his orientation, he's still the sex shark."

"Um. Yeah." He dropped his hands to his lap and sighed. "Can I ask you something?"

"If it's about sex with Puck, trust me, I don't remember anything," she said. "I wouldn't have done it at all if I'd been sober."

"No, it's - the shirt. That conversation we had, with Sam, and then..."

"I sent him a shirt for his birthday," she said quietly.

"Yeah." He watched her. "Can you tell me why you did that?"

"It was what Sam said about... the smell. When Beth was born, I was with her for one day, in the hospital. I just sat there holding her, for as long as they'd let me, just... smelling her. Babies smell amazing." Her hands tightened on the wheel. "I had no idea."

Kurt felt his throat close up, and he nodded. "My mom. She died when I was eight, and I still sit and smell her perfume, in drawers full of her old clothes. It's not quite the same, but... I understand."

"Anyway... Puck. He made a comment about how I smelled like her. Like Beth. Must be the milk, I don't know..." She sighed. "And I thought, if he was missing her, that maybe he'd like something that smelled like her. Even if I couldn't give him  _her,_  I could at least give him... that."

He reached out and touched her hand, and, surprised, she took it, squeezing it.

"Thanks," he said. "For explaining. I was all set to be jealous."

"Of me? God, no. Puck might say he loves me, but I don't want anything he's got. You can have him."

"No." Kurt squeezed her hand once more and let it go. "No... I really can't."

"Well, then, he's an idiot," she declared.

"That's what Finn said." Kurt shook his head. "But I think I'm the idiot. Believe me, if I could have let him go by now, I would have."

* * *

Quinn drove until about three while Kurt dozed, then she curled up in the back seat to sleep while Kurt drove the rest of the way, fortified with caffeine. He didn't call Noah back, but he did send him periodic texts to let him know his progress. About eleven, Noah texted him back.

_Fucking hangover,_  he sent.  _Sorry I was such a pushy ass last night._

_It's fine,_  Kurt assured him.  _I wanted it too, but there was no way I would have been able to keep driving if you'd made me come right then._

_Come to my room before the show, babe, and ill make you come for real._

Kurt gripped the steering wheel more firmly, feeling his body's response to that idea.  _I don't know if I'll be there in time, Noah, but I'll try._

He really didn't know if he could bring himself to tell Quinn to get lost while he went to Noah's room, but at the same time, he wasn't sure he could imagine  _not_  taking that opportunity.  _You were very tempting last night,_  he added.

_Your telling me. i did the whole second act with a boner they could probably see from the first row. chris totally called me on it._

Kurt felt a prickle of jealousy at the sight of the name.  _What, he's not helping you take care of that anymore?_

_You know hes not. I called it off last year._

_I can't say I'm upset to hear that,_ Kurt typed.  _But I never asked you not to see anybody._

_Hey, i know. I just couldnt do that with him without wanting it to be you. that kind of sucked._

_Thank you?_  was all Kurt could say.

_Let me thank you with this big bottle of lube ive got right here._

Kurt groaned, and Quinn stirred in the back seat.  _Soon,_ Kurt promised.  _Better get back to the road._

_i'll be thinking of you, babe._

"Insatiable," Kurt muttered, but that was definitely a case of the pot calling the kettle black. He adjusted himself in his pants and changed lanes. "Quinn - we're getting close to the city, if you want to see it."

She rose and stretched, peering out the window at the rising skyline. "My parents took us to New York when I was seven and my sister was ten, to see  _Cats_  on Broadway before it closed. I haven't been back since then."

"Well, I've never been. My neighbor Andrea and I drove through last summer to see Noah in  _A Midsummer Night's Dream,_ but we had to be back for our own rehearsals of  _Oklahoma_  the next day."

"He did Shakespeare?" Quinn said, sounding doubtful. Kurt had to smile.

"He was born to do Shakespeare," he assured her.

Kurt waited until they were through the city and on Long Island to bring up visiting Noah in his room. "He wants me to come see him before the show," he said.

She smiled tiredly at him. "Well, how about I drop you off there, then? You guys have been waiting to see each other all summer, right?"

"We've never... um." He couldn't truthfully say they'd never done  _anything,_ not anymore. "We've never even kissed," he decided.

"Wow. Well, I'm definitely not going to stand in your way." She put a hand on his shoulder. "You want to tell him what time you'll be there?"

Kurt texted him as they pulled over to trade places.  _I'll be there in about ten minutes. Where should I be dropped off?_

_Whos driving? thought andrea couldnt come?_

Kurt hesitated, staring at the screen of his phone. Finally he replied,  _It's Quinn. She asked to come along._

There was no answer for several minutes. Kurt began to feel anxious. Then he read:  _quinn knows about us?_

_She's not going to tell anybody,_  he promised. But there was no reply after that. Kurt finally called him, but it went to voicemail.

"Noah," he pleaded into his phone. "It was an accident. She promised, she'll keep your secret. Just call me and tell me where you are. We can talk about this."

Quinn watched him hang up with a concerned face. "He's freaking out," she said.

"I don't know. Maybe. I guess I should just go to his dorm and see if I can find him."

Kurt looked up the location of his residence hall and they drove there, parking in the visitor lot. But when they walked into the lobby, Chris was waiting there with an African-American boy. They stood up when they saw Kurt.

"Noah said you'd probably come here," said Chris.

"He doesn't want to see you," said the other boy, his face hard. Kurt tried to maintain his polite composure.

"I'm sorry, you are...?" he said to the African-American boy.

"Anthony," he replied. "We're Puck's friends. He's a mess, right before the show, because of what you did."

"This wasn't intentional," Quinn insisted. "I used to be his girlfriend. He should know he can trust me."

"That's not the point. He thought he could trust  _you."_  Anthony sneered at Kurt. "And you outed him anyway."

Anthony looked completely pissed, but Chris put a hand on his arm. "Ease up, man. I'm sorry, Kurt. I don't think he can deal with this right now. You're going to have to talk to him after the show."

Kurt sighed. "All right. Please, tell him I'm so sorry, and... and I'm really looking forward to seeing the show."

"I'm sorry too, Kurt," said Quinn, distressed. "This was all my fault. I should have talked to him first."

"Maybe. And I should have realized I wasn't going to be able to get through this visit without a confrontation with him about you finding out." Kurt pushed his way through the doors and stalked toward the car. "Come on. Let's go get some breakfast."

He called Noah back several times while they ate, but he wasn't picking up. "Do you want to try to get some more sleep before the show?" Quinn asked.

Kurt shook his head. "I won't sleep. I think we might as well get our tickets. We only have an hour."

The woman at the box office sold them two tickets near the front, and they sat in an exhausted stupor in their seats until curtain.

"He doesn't come on until scene three," Kurt murmured to Quinn, resting his head in his hand. Neither Chris nor Anthony were in the cast; Kurt knew Chris had played Henry in the other show, so it stood to reason he wouldn't have a part in this play. But he couldn't help but wonder: if Chris was Noah's biggest rival, didn't that imply that the other actors wouldn't be quite as good? But they were. They were all fantastic. Quinn's enormous eyes bespoke her own appreciation.

And then the lights came up on the third scene, and there was Noah, dressed in a business suit, saying the words Kurt had heard him rehearse over the phone a dozen times:

<http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qa9dttNx1S8>

"...all train compartments smell vaguely of shit. It gets so you don't mind it. That's the worst thing that I can confess..."

Noah's timing was sharp, his curses and pauses aimed to make the audience sit up and take notice. He wrung every laugh from the house like a sponge. Kurt knew the part well already, but he was still breathless, watching Noah take over the stage with his long strides and expressive body. When the scene drew to a close, Quinn turned to him, clutching his arm as the audience clapped.

"That was  _Puck?"_  she hissed. "Our Puck?"

_My Noah,_  he wanted to say, but he didn't. He just smiled helplessly and was carried on by Mamet's shocking, whirlwind script and the actors' dynamite presentation, all the way through until the end of Act Two. Then they rose to their feet and applauded with the rest of the audience, watching Noah smile and take his bow.

"I've got to talk to him," he said. Quinn nodded, following him up the aisle toward the lobby. They waited at the stage door for several anxious minutes, until finally it opened and the cast came out, still wearing their makeup.

Noah's eyes traveled the room, lighting on Kurt. He wasn't smiling, but he fought through the crowd until he stood close enough to touch.

"Hey, Quinn," he said, not taking his eyes off Kurt.

"Puck," she said, laughing. "You were amazing. I had no idea..."

"Yeah." Noah ran his eyes over Kurt, from head to toe. Kurt felt as though he'd been doused with cold water; he choked on a gasp. "Me either. About a lot of things."

"Your secret's safe with me," she promised. Noah sighed, finally looking over at her.

"Maybe," he said. "But clearly it's not safe with  _him._  And he's the one I was trusting to keep it."

"Noah," he tried.

"Shut up," Noah snapped. "I've got nothing to say to you."

"Hey," Quinn protested. "We just drove ten hours to see you. Kurt couldn't talk about anything else. Can't you give him a break?"

Noah shook his head, his face stony. "Not about this." He turned away. "Thanks for coming."

"Noah," Kurt said again.

Noah wheeled on him, forcing his body into Kurt's space. Kurt stumbled back a step, flinching away from his glare.

"It's  _Puck,"_  he growled. "Can't you fucking get it right?"

Kurt stood there, unable to breathe, watching Noah disappear backstage. When Quinn turned to Kurt, he bolted for the door. She might have followed him, but he wasn't paying attention, tripping over the curb to get back to his car, to a place that felt safe. He unlocked the doors with a click from his key and managed to scramble through the door into the driver's seat before dissolving into sobs.

After a little while, he heard Quinn climb into the passenger seat, sigh quietly and lay a hand on his shoulder while he cried.

"He wouldn't come back out," she said. "But he'll be back in Lima soon, and -"

"No," said Kurt. He wiped his eyes. "Noah doesn't give people a second chance. He's been hurt too many times. I'm going to have to work to regain his trust."

He couldn't say that he wasn't at all sure Noah would be willing to offer him that. There had to be something left for him to believe in.

* * *

[ _https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N6bp-L6my2Q_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N6bp-L6my2Q)

_Got a pinch of tobacco in my pocket_  
 _I'm not gonna roll it, no, I'm not gonna smoke it_  
 _Till we're staring at the stars and the rockets  
_ _Twinkling in the silvery night_

_Two sips of whiskey in the flask_  
 _But I'm not gonna drink 'em_  
 _I swear I'll make it last_  
 _Till we're drinking out of the same glass again_   


_And though the sand may be washed by the sea_  
 _And the old will be lost in the new_  
 _Well four will not wait for three_  
 _For three never waited for two_  
 _And though you will not wait for me  
_ _I'll wait for you_

_Got a Polaroid picture in my wallet_  
 _I'm not gonna tear it, no, I'm not gonna spoil it_  
 _It's an unspoken heartbreak  
_ _A heartbroken handshake_

_I take with me where I go_  
 _Three words on the tip of my tongue_  
 _Not to be spoke nor sung_  
 _Or whispered to anyone  
_ _Till I scream 'em at the top of my lungs again_

_And though the sand may be washed by the sea_  
 _And the old will be lost in the new_  
 _Well four will not wait for three_  
 _For three never waited for two_  
 _And though you will not wait for me  
_ _I'll wait for you_

_\- Passenger, "Patient Love"_


	13. Fall 2010

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Herein is heavy quoting from episodes in season 2 through 2x03 Grilled Cheesus, as well as from the script of Twelve Angry Men. No other warnings apply, other than some serious UST.   
> -amy

 

_Jacob Ben Israel: How do you respond to the rumor that, because you knocked up Quinn Fabray, you spent your summer pool-cleaning money on a vasectomy?_

_Puck: It's true. It was the responsible thing to do._

_JBI: Is it also true that you're suffering from a crippling depression because you're not over Miss Fabray?_

_Puck: (no comment in yo face)_

* * *

_JBI: How has life changed since the birth of your bastard child?_

_Quinn: Well, I'm happy to be back, and ready to start fresh... and I'm a lot less hormonal, so there's not really any crying._

* * *

_JBI: When will you Glee clubbers accept the fact that people hate you? That you're nothing but a glorified karaoke club designed to make the inventors of Autotune millions of dollars?_

_Kurt: You know what, Jacob? It doesn't take much courage for people to park their cottage cheese behinds in their Barcaloungers and log onto the Internet and start tearing people down, does it? But do you know what does take some courage? Standing up and singing about something. So here's a message for everyone who reads your blog. Next time, instead of posting an anonymous comment online, say what you have to say to my face._

* * *

Mercedes spent her first hour reuniting with Kurt complaining about the politics of Christian gospel organizations. Kurt smiled and nodded as long as he could stand it, but eventually he had to interject, "Did you hear Tina and Mike are dating now?" This let loose a new flurry of words. It was fine. Anything to distract her from asking about  _his_  summer.

Because, really, Kurt was more than happy not to talk about what had happened with Noah. The alternatives were either to invent a rumor from whole cloth, which is what Noah did, or to try to talk around what he'd really done all summer, which is what Quinn did. Neither felt particularly appealing to him.

Kurt hadn't spoken to Noah at all since he'd returned from New York. He wasn't sure whether it was because he was annoyed at Noah for overreacting or because Noah was annoyed at him for outing him to Quinn. Whatever reason, neither was talking to the other. When they passed each other in the hallway, they avoided eye contact. It seemed this was the way things were going to be between them, and Kurt was too busy feeling annoyed to miss Noah - or at least that's what he told himself.

Once Mercedes' comments about TIna and Mike had dwindled, Kurt pointed out Sam Evans in the hallway and mentioned his beautiful voice. "He'd be good in Glee," Kurt suggested. But, unfortunately, now they were back to the school rules instead of the summer rules, in which social structures were rigid and set firmly in place. He didn't acknowledge or speak to the people with whom he'd spent the summer performing in  _Into the Woods._  Even Quinn only smiled wistfully as she walked past him in the hallway with Santana and Brittany, and sat as far away from him in Glee club as she could get, because at school, choir geeks and cheerleaders (even former Cheerio choir geeks) weren't friends.

Mr. Schue tried to bring this up as a lesson, mentioning Jacob Ben Israel's blog and its slanderous comments. Kurt responded by pooh-poohing it.

"So we're plankton on the high school food chain," he said. "So what? The only difference is, now, none of us really care."

"Kurt's right," said Mercedes. "We're family. They can bring it all they want. None of it is really going to break us."

But Schue gave them an assignment to make Glee look appealing to potential new members, and somehow that turned into singing about New York City in the courtyard. Quinn caught Kurt's arm in the hallway as they were changing out of their t-shirts, a smirk on her face.

"One guess as to who came up with the New York idea," she murmured. Kurt sighed.

"He's not original. And you saw how many people cared. We're going to have to keep trying. Did you talk to Sam about joining Glee?"

She shrugged dismissively. "I think Finn's going to talk to him at football practice."

Kurt asked Finn about Sam at dinner that night. Carole and Finn had returned to the Hudson house, but the four of them still got together and dinner a couple times a week at the Hummel's, which suited Kurt fine; Carole was a much better cook than his dad ever had been.

Finn grinned big when Kurt mentioned Sam. "Dude, he's not just a great singer, he's hilarious. Puck was all, "Dude, your mouth is huge. How many tennis balls can you fit in there?" and Sam was, like, "I don't know, I've never had any balls in my mouth. Have you?"

"Finn!" Carole exclaimed, looking scandalized, but she had the same grin Finn was wearing. Kurt rolled his eyes, trying not to blush. He was pretty sure he knew Noah's answer to that question, even if Kurt himself hadn't had the opportunity to find out before they stopped talking to each other.

"Well, I'm glad you got a chance to hear him sing, anyway," said Kurt, taking a forkful of linguini.

"Yeah." Finn drooped a little, looking wistful. "Glee might be the only fun thing I get to do anymore, if the new coach is gonna cut me as quarterback. We have to audition from scratch."

Kurt wasn't exactly sure how Finn had any time to worry about football or even Glee, now that he was a junior. Kurt's academic course load was ridiculous. On top of British literature, trigonometry and French, he had advanced placement classes in American history and chemistry. He'd preserved the last hour of the day for study hall first semester, to give him time to work on his homework before the end of the day.

As luck would have it, Noah had both British literature and study hall with Kurt. This wouldn't have mattered, except Mrs. Wright had already mentioned to their teacher, Mr. Tracy, that Kurt was a miracle-working tutor when it came to Noah Puckerman. Kurt glanced up from his composition pretest to see Mr. Tracy seating Noah at the desk next to him.

"Noah's going to sit here," he whispered, ostensibly just for the two of them to hear, but it was loud enough for other nearby students to hear it too, which meant the whole class would know within minutes. "Can you give him a hand getting started on his pretest?"

"I don't need any help from him," Noah muttered, glaring at Kurt.

"Don't be a jerk,  _Noah,"_  Kurt said airily, trying to ignore the pounding of his heart. "I'll get you started, and then you can go back to pretending I'm not even here."

"Thanks, Kurt." Mr. Tracy gave them both an anxious smile and left them alone. Noah scowled at his paper.

"Stupid fucking douchebag." He doodled in the margins of his test. "I can already tell he's going to be one of those assholes who thinks Shakespeare should be read instead of performed."

Kurt concealed his smile. "You're going to love this prompt, then.  _Read the sonnet and explain how Shakespeare uses natural imagery to create a picture of the young man's beauty._  I might not even need to read the poem to you."

Noah peered at the paper briefly, his lips moving, and rolled his eyes. Then he closed them, reciting the poem quietly. At first he used a mocking, sing-song voice, but eventually that subsided, and he shifted into the measured pacing and crisp diction Kurt remembered Noah using when he'd recited the sonnet for him in the spring _._ He felt a tremor inside at hearing that voice again.

" _Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?  
_ _Thou art more lovely and more temperate:  
_ _Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,  
_ _And summer's lease hath all too short a date:  
_ _Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,  
_ _And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;  
_ _And every fair from fair sometime declines,  
_ _By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;  
_ _But thy eternal summer shall not fade  
_ _Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;  
_ _Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,  
_ _When in eternal lines to time thou growest:  
_ _So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,  
_ _So long lives this, and this gives life to thee."_

Noah opened his eyes, staring down at his paper. "I think I've got it from here," he said stiffly.

"Yeah." Kurt took a shallow breath and returned to his own test, trying to focus, to ignore Noah's leg just inches away from his own. He managed to get some words down about the theme of everlasting beauty preserved in rhyme, and hoped that would be enough to satisfy Mr. Tracy.

"This guy," Noah said, startling Kurt. He glanced over at him.

"What about him?" he murmured.

Noah shifted in his chair. "He's... well, he's calm. Not driven to extremes. Not too hot; not too windy." His eyes flickered over to Kurt. "Sounds like that would be a better way to be, huh?"

Kurt assumed his most supercilious expression. "If you're asking me if I think you're full of hot air, I think you know the answer to that."

He heard a snort, and Kurt thought that might be a grin that passed over Noah's face before he returned to his laborious writing. Kurt felt a little of the tension in his shoulders ease. He finished his essay and went up to Mr. Tracy's desk to hand it in.

"How's Noah doing?" he asked, accepting Kurt's paper.

"Fine," Kurt said. "If you don't mind, I'd rather not sit with him in class. He doesn't really need my help. He'll be fine without me."

* * *

Kurt put his copies of the next two Ender books in his third desk drawer and ignored them, much the same way he ignored Noah's presence at school. When Finn mentioned Noah in passing, Kurt might comment in the same way he would talk about Mike or Sam. But he hoped he was sending a clear message to Carole and his dad: that Noah didn't factor into his life anymore, and he wasn't going to waste any more time thinking about him, as long as Noah didn't want to let him in.

There were two problems with this plan. One was Quinn. She had AP chemistry and French with him, in addition to study hall. She had apparently decided Kurt needed to know what was going on in Noah's life, even if Kurt really didn't  _want_  to know. Whenever they had a moment alone together, she would casually mention that Noah was working on scenes from Agatha Christie's  _Mousetrap_  in theater club at the university, or that Noah had invited her down to Dayton to see  _Carmen_  at the opera house. Whether he ignored her or responded to her comments didn't seem to make a difference. It was both irritating and distracting, but Kurt didn't have a reasonable way to ask her to stop without getting a teacher involved. So he mostly nodded and  _hmmm_ ed and tried to focus on his school work.

The other problem, surprisingly, was Rachel. She was sickeningly in love with Finn, and Finn was sickeningly in love with her in return. Normally a situation like this would prompt Kurt to tease them both mercilessly, but now, everything was different. Maybe it was because he knew what he was missing, or how unlikely it was that  _he'd_ ever have anything like that. Watching Rachel sing songs like  _The Only Exception_ in Glee, and Finn blush and smile... it got to him. And it pissed him off that it did.

Mr. Tracy stopped seating Kurt and Noah together in British literature. It took only a few weeks for it to become clear that Noah neither wanted nor needed Kurt's assistance in understanding the material they were studying. But Noah just as clearly wasn't going to put himself out there. He didn't participate in class discussion or volunteer any information about theater; he simply went about his semester, perfectly camouflaged as the same slacker he'd always appeared to be. Only Kurt knew he was acing all his quizzes and essays, and that was only because he helped proctor them.

But mostly Kurt thought he was doing a pretty good job of making it through junior year and getting over Noah, until one Monday in study hall Noah sat down in the seat in front of him, turned around, glared at him and said, "Look. Kurt. This is really stupid."

"I'm a little busy," Kurt whispered, ignoring Ms. Ryan's curious glance at them.

"That's not due until next week," Noah said, leaning forward to examine the copy of  _The Tempest_  Kurt was reading. "I'm talking about theater club."

"What about it?"

"You," Noah said, a little too loudly. Rachel made a rude  _shhh_  noise in their direction. Noah flipped her the finger. "You said you were gonna go, but you're not. Again."

"I'm surprised you noticed." Kurt turned the corner down in his book with a sigh and reluctantly met Noah's eyes.

"Yeah, and that's stupid. Are you telling me you don't want to do theater after all? Because you  _need_  to get some more shows under your belt before you graduate. You're already way behind." He stabbed Kurt's desk with a finger. "This year's gonna make or break you."

_You already broke me,_ he wanted to say, but that was a little melodramatic even for him. "I'm looking at summer programs. Mrs. Wright said she would get me an interview with Chicago Theater Kids."

"Yeah, but what about now?" Noah leaned back with a frown. "Look, how about I quit theater club."

Kurt shook his head irritably. "What? Why?"

"You're not gonna do it as long as I'm there, right? So I'll quit. I've done plenty of shows already."

"Boys," Ms. Ryan called, and Kurt could only glare helplessly at Noah and mouth the word  _no._  Noah turned forward in his seat and proceeded to deface the desk with his ballpoint pen while Kurt read the same page in  _The Tempest_ three times.

When the bell rang, Noah turned back to him again, more determined than ever, but Kurt forestalled further words by holding out a hand. "Why are you doing this? Why are you trying to... to  _help_  me?"

Noah's mouth tightened. "You know," he said quietly.

_No, I don't,_  he wanted to shout.  _I don't know anything anymore._ But he just sat there, watching as Noah stood up and stuffed his notebook into his backpack.

"You don't have to stop going to theater club for me," Kurt finally said. He gathered his things and rose to his feet. "I was thinking about going anyway. I mean, we're doing Glee, and we're in class together. We can be... civil."

"Sure we can." Noah took a step closer. "But theater isn't civil. It's kind of the opposite of civil. It's like war, or fucking. Nobody who does it well does it  _nice."_

Kurt tried not to let the word  _fucking_  affect him _,_  coming from Noah's mouth, so close in that room, as much as he tried to ignore Noah's improper grammar.  _Nicely_. "So stop trying to be nice," he said evenly. "Let me make my own mistakes. Less competition for you, right?"

"Whatever," snapped Noah. "I never said you were competition."

He raised an eyebrow as he pushed past Noah toward the door. "Think again."

Kurt looked up the information about the theater club as soon as he got home. It appeared to still be on Tuesdays at 3pm; the faculty advisor was listed as "Jenna," along with an email address. He sent her a brief email introducing himself, mentioning that he knew Noah, but nothing further than that, and that he'd like to participate. He felt better after he'd done it. Even if nothing came of his effort, he'd made a move on behalf of his future, for himself.

But before bed, he received a reply.

_Kurt - you'd be very welcome to join us for TC. We're meeting tomorrow afternoon at 3 at the Visitor and Student Events Center. Friday evening at 7pm, there's a special guest coming from the New York Academy of the Dramatic Arts. You won't want to miss that! Hope to meet you tomorrow or Friday. - Jenna_

Kurt was already planning to attend the annual Sound of Music Sing-A-Long on Friday evening, but a guest from NYADA might bump that to next year's calendar. He almost wished Finn were still sleeping in the bed next to his so he could find him and tell him about it. It struck him suddenly how much he'd come to depend on Noah, as a friend and fellow thespian. He sighed.  _And I threw it away for a summer of phone sex._ As good as that had been, right now he really wished he had his friend back.

* * *

Kurt's dad had already left for the garage when he got up in the morning, and judging by the absence of dirty dishes in the sink, he had clearly not made himself breakfast.  _Another reason for Carole to move back in as soon as possible,_ he thought as he scrambled a couple egg whites. He cut himself half a grapefruit and packed the other half into a brown paper bag. While he ate his half, he sent Noah a text. At least that was something he couldn't ignore.

_I'm going to theater club today after school._

_Okay,_  Noah replied immediately.  _You want me to stay home?_

_No. Just thought you might want a heads up. Did you hear about the visitor from NYADA this Friday evening?_

_nyadas totally overrated. nycda and aada both have better theater programs._

_Should I take that to mean you won't be attending the talk, then? I thought I'd invite Rachel._

Kurt smirked at Noah's reply and took a bite of his egg white wrap.  _Berrys a hack. you can totally do better._

_Hey, I'm not dating her. I'm just looking for a companion with whom to talk theater._

He sat there for another few minutes, looking at the blank screen with a growing sense of unease. He hadn't meant the conversation to be anything more than passing information. Had he? Maybe this had been his subconscious' desperate attempt to somehow get Noah back into his life.

But he let out his breath when Noah's reply finally came through.  _See you there after school, then._

It wasn't as though they wouldn't see each other at school, too, but this was different. And Noah was right - it couldn't be about being nice to each other. He had to see him as a colleague, even an adversary, not a friend. For the good of his career.

With a resolute sigh, he grabbed his dad's breakfast and headed over to the garage to make him eat it.

But the conversation he had with his dad prompted him to grab his phone and type out a furious follow-up.  _I don't know if I can do Friday after all. My dad's making me stay home for stupid family dinner night._

_Bummer,_  Noah responded.  _If my mom cared enough to have family anything night, i think id stay home too. dont sweat the nyada guy._

Kurt tried to let it go, but he just felt more and more tense all day. Hearing Noah tell him that he had to get some shows under his belt before he graduated, that he was way behind everybody else, had made him more anxious than he'd realized. Or maybe it had been the way his dad had said  _I'm real disappointed in you, Kurt._

And then Finn had to go and raise his hand in Glee, saying, "Mr. Schue? I've got something to say. Something happened to me, and I can't really get into it, but it's shaken me to my core."

"Oh my god," said Noah, blinking, "he's coming out."

"Uh, yes," said Finn. "There is a man that's sort of recently come into my life, and that man is Jesus Christ."

Puck rolled his eyes. "That's way worse."

"If I wanted to sing about Jesus, I'd go to church," said Kurt, "and the reason I don't go to church is because most churches don't think much of gay people. Or women. Or science."

Mercedes and Quinn were on Finn's side; Santana and Britt were on Kurt's. For a minute, Kurt thought Noah might be, too, but when Finn pushed him to say more, he just said, "It seems to me that true spirituality, or whatever you want to call it, is about enjoying the life you've been given."

Kurt sat in shock as Noah grabbed a guitar off the stand and broke into song:

<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ke-XHpwog54>

_Come out, Virginia, don't let me wait_  
 _You Catholic girls start much too late_  
 _Oh, but sooner or later it comes down to fate_  
 _I might as well be the one_  
 _Well, they showed you a statue, told you to pray_  
 _They built you a temple and locked you away_  
 _But they didn't tell you the price that you'd pay_  
 _For things that you might have done  
_ _Darlin', only the good die young._

It was like he was taunting Kurt right in front of the entire Glee club. When Noah ran up the center aisle and leaned in to sing directly to Quinn and Mercedes, hovering mere inches away, Kurt scarcely kept from bolting from the room.

Finally, while the rest of Glee danced and clapped along, Kurt decided he'd had enough. He took his phone out and fired a text off to Noah before he'd even finished singing the song.

_I don't know what kind of point you were trying to make, but it missed its mark. If you have something to say to me, say it to. my. face._

He was almost to his car when he got Noah's reply.  _Dont be so fucking touchy. not everything is about you._

_Oh, yeah, sure. Don't even try to pretend you weren't singing that song for me. What, you want me to say I regret what we did this summer? That I wish we hadn't done all the stuff we did? Fine, I regret it. I wish I'd never met you._

He drove straight to the Visitor and Student Events Center, even though he'd be a little early for the club. He considered turning off his phone, but there was no point. Noah would be there in a few minutes, and he'd have to deal with him then.  _Civil,_  he told himself firmly.

But Noah's face when he walked into the room was anything but civil. Kurt didn't think he'd seen him so angry since that summer after  _Glengarry._  As other students filtered into the room, Noah pulled up a chair and sat across the circle from Kurt, staring him down.

Kurt wasn't going to back down. He stared right back at Noah. The tension between them was palpable; he could feel it prickling against his skin.

"You must be Kurt." His gaze was ripped from Noah's by a girl with inch-long purple hair, a nose ring and a bright smile. She held out her hand. "I'm Jenna."

Kurt shook it, attempting a smile back. "Thanks for having me."

"It's nice to have another student from McKinley. You and Noah can be partners for dialogue practice."

The rest of the attendees were college students. After they all went around and introduced themselves and did a few warm-ups, Jenna paired them up and gave them sets of handouts with dialogues from famous plays. The one she handed to Noah and Kurt was called  _Twelve Angry Men._

_Appropriate,_  Kurt thought, watching Noah glower at him. But he said only, "You want Three or Eight?"

"Um... Eight, I guess?" Kurt browsed the excerpt of script.

"You really don't know this play, do you?" Noah sighed. "Come on. Let's go. You first."

Kurt began, reading from the handout. "Here's what I think happened: the old man heard the fight between the boy and his father a few hours earlier. Then, when he's lying in his bed, he heard a body hit the floor in the boy's apartment, heard the woman scream from across the street, got to his front door as fast as he could, heard somebody racing down the stairs and  _assumed_  it was the boy."

Noah scoffed. " _Assumed?"_

Kurt peered closer at the script. "Yes - that's what it says,  _assumed...?"_

He groaned. "Kurt, I'm just reading my fucking part. Would you go on? I say,  _Assumed?_ and you say,  _brother, I've seen all kinds of dishonesty in my day, but this little display takes the fucking cake."_

Kurt read along as Noah said the lines. He wasn't even glancing at the paper. "You know the whole script by heart?"

"What? I've seen it a dozen times. Come  _on._ "

Kurt went ahead and said his lines, getting into the part as he did. He found himself yelling them to Noah: "Y'all come in here with your hearts bleedin' all over the floor about slum kids and injustice, you listen to some fairy tales... Suddenly, you start gettin' through to some of these old ladies. Well, you're not getting through to me, I've had enough.  _What's the matter with you guys?_ You all  _know_ he's guilty! He's  _got_ to burn! You're letting him slip through our fingers!"

Noah's face had lit up as Kurt began shouting, and he responded with an equal amount of heat. " 'Slip through our fingers'? Are you his executioner?"

"I'm one of 'em!" Kurt shot back.

Noah sneered. "Perhaps you'd like to pull the switch?"

"For this kid? You bet I would."

Now Noah shook his head sorrowfully, circling Kurt as he did, baiting him with his words and his gestures. "I feel sorry for you... what it must feel like to want to pull the switch. Ever since you walked into this room, you've been acting like a self-appointed public avenger. You want to see this boy die because you personally want it, not because of the facts! You're a sadist!"

Kurt didn't even need to read the stage directions; he just lunged for Noah, putting his hands around his neck. "I'll kill him!" he cried. " _I'll kill him!"_

Noah just took Kurt's wrists in both hands, holding them away from his body. His breathing was short and his pupils huge, but he had a little smile on his lips.

"You don't  _really_  mean you'll kill me, do you?" he murmured.

Kurt jerked his eyes from Noah's lips as the rest of the group began applauding. He stepped back, putting a little space between them.

"Nice," Jenna said, as the applause wound down. "I can see Noah's got some competition."

Noah's smile slipped, and he glanced, startled, between Jenna and Kurt, but he didn't say anything. He threw his script down onto the chair next to him and sat, his arms crossed, watching in silence as the others finished their dialogues. Kurt was paired next with a girl and read through a dialogue from  _Angels in America_. He could feel Noah's eyes on him the whole time _._

"You'll come back, won't you, Kurt?" Jenna said when the hour was up. "And Friday..."

"I'll come back," he promised, "but I don't think I can make Friday. Another time, though, for sure."

On the way home, Kurt stopped at the library and checked out the DVDs of both the 1957 and the 1997 versions of  _Twelve Angry Men._ He guessed his dad wouldn't mind watching both of them after family dinner was over, not if he'd been willing to sit through  _Sound of Music_ all those times.

"Dad, I've got these movies," he called, closing the front door, but his dad was on the phone and held up a hand for him to wait.

"Yeah, my fianceé's son's a huge fan," he was saying. "I've got to get the seats right on the fifty yard line." Kurt tried to cut in again, and Burt frowned at him, shaking his head.

Kurt felt the excitement that had been generated by the dialogue practice with Noah dwindle to nothing, leaving only a hollow resentment.  _He couldn't care less about spending an evening with me at sing-along Sound of Music, but he'll bend over backwards to get tickets to a stupid football game for Finn. He's not even his son._

He stuffed the DVDs into his messenger bag and went downstairs to bed.

* * *

" _Classe, nous allons pratiquer le dialogue."_  Madame Bates gestured for the class to turn toward their neighbors.  _"Parlez-nous de çe que vous ferez çe week-end."_

Kurt sighed, eyeing Azimio. Two dialogue practices in as many days, although this one promised to fall short of his experience with Noah in every way - and he couldn't guarantee it wouldn't end with Kurt's hands around  _his_  throat.  _"Voulez-vous passer en premier?"_

"Whatever," Azimio muttered, his lip curling back in distaste. "You tell me about whatever you want. I ain't gonna understand it anyway."

Kurt gave him a wry smile. "Strangely, I'm not surprised," he said in French, watching Azimio's eyes glaze over. "Fridays are supposed to be family dinners at my house. It's a tradition my mom started. Maybe it would mean more if she were still alive to cook them. My dad's attempts at cuisine tend toward the embarrassing or the disastrous. So I was going to offer to cook, but... instead, I'm going to sing-a-long  _Sound of Music_. And in two hours I will experience more culture and artistry than you will in your entire life."

"Kurt?" he heard, and paused as he realized both Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury were standing by the door. Mr. Schue's eyes were worried. "Can we talk to you outside?"

Ms. Pillsbury spoke quietly to Madame Bates as Mr. Schue escorted him into the hall. "What's going on?"

"Kurt... there's no easy way to say this. It's your dad. He's had what appears to be a heart attack. The ambulance came to the garage and -"

"What? Wait, he - my dad?" Kurt felt his feet stop, like he'd forgotten how to make them walk. "I don't understand."

Mr. Schue sighed. "The ambulance came to the garage and took him to St. Rita's. We'll take you to the emergency room and wait with you until you hear more."

"More." Kurt shook his head. "More what? You're saying my dad - he had a heart attack?" The words tasted funny on his tongue, and he grimaced, willing himself not to throw up in front of Mr. Schue.

"You can leave your car here," Ms. Pillsbury said. "It'll be fine. I'm sure everything will be fine, but... we should go now, Kurt."

He rode in silence in the back seat of Mr. Schue's rusty sedan, watching the city pass by with increasing frustration. By the time they reached the valet parking lane outside the emergency room, he was ready to start yelling.

"I told him not to eat those Slim Jims for breakfast," he muttered to Mr. Schue, who cast a helpless appeal to Ms. Pillsbury.

"Don't worry about that right now, Kurt," she said, directing him through the door with a gentle hand. "We're going to find out what's going on with your dad now."

But they didn't. They checked in at the counter, and waited for what seemed like hours, although it was probably only a few minutes.  _I should call Carole,_  he thought, and then he looked at the nurse at the counter of the waiting room and asked himself,  _what am I going to tell her?_  He left his phone in his pocket.

Finally, a doctor in blue scrubs came out from the emergency room to talk to them. "Where is he?" Kurt blurted, rising from the bench and wrapping his arms around himself. "Is he dead?"

"No, he's alive," said the doctor, "but I'm sorry, I don't have any other good news."

"I want to see him," Kurt insisted, starting forward, but the doctor held him back.

"He hasn't regained consciousness."

"Consciousness?" echoed Mr. Schue. "I thought he had a heart attack."

"Brought on by an arrhythmia, which caused a lack of blood to his brain. That's what made him lose consciousness and is keeping him comatose." The doctor looked as exhausted as Kurt felt. "We have him on lidocaine, but there's no guarantee it's going to work. We don't know what kind of damage was done to his brain by the lack of oxygen."

"I don't understand what you're saying," Kurt said, feeling the panic rise inside him. "When is he going to wake up?"

"I don't know."

"Just - take us to him now, please," said Mr. Schue, and they followed the doctor down the hall to where Burt was waiting.

* * *

Kurt realized later that just under an hour had gone by between the moment they'd pulled him out of French that morning and when he first took his dad's hand, there in the hospital bed. Now another half hour had passed, but he wasn't going to let go of that hand, not for anything.

"You need to eat some lunch," Mr. Schue said. "Let me wait with him, or Emma."

"Can you bring food here?" Kurt asked, his tongue stumbling over the words. "I'm staying."

The food they brought was barely palatable, and certainly nothing that was fit to serve to a sick person, but Kurt choked down the greasy soup and stale sandwich anyway.

While he was eating, Carole arrived, and Kurt had to put down the food and hug her. She looked pretty shaken up, but she perused his dad's chart and grilled the nurses with questions.

"Kurt..." Mr. Schue touched his hand. "We need to head back to school. You don't have to come back today, but I'd like to invite you to Glee club rehearsal, anyway. Your friends want to be there to support you. Think about it, okay? And one of us can come back to pick you up if you decide you want to come."

He nodded. "Thank you... for bringing me out here." They slipped away. Kurt leaned heavily on Carole's arm, tears squeezing out from behind his closed eyes. "I can't believe this is happening."

"I know," Carole whispered. "I'm going to see if I can find the surgeon who worked on Burt and get some more questions answered. I'll be right here at the nurses' station if you need anything. Did you talk to Finn?"

He felt a stab of guilt, but quickly buried it under anger. "I didn't talk to anybody."

"It's fine, honey. I'll give him a call at school." She placed a kiss to his forehead. "We're going to get through this."

Kurt nodded, watching her walk into the hallway, and then returned to his bedside vigil. It felt like the only thing he could do. Then he felt his phone buzzing. He took it out of his pocket, and read the text from - Noah?

_What room r you in?_

_I'm at the hospital,_  he replied.  _My dad had a heart attack._

_I know. what room?_

He supplied it, mystified, but less than five minutes later, Noah appeared at the door.

"Holy shit, Kurt," he whispered.

Kurt felt the control he'd barely hung on to all day begin to slip. He turned away from Noah, and opened his mouth to tell him to  _go away, already,_  but instead found himself saying, "I'm so scared."

Noah reached for his hand across the bed, and Kurt reached to take it, gripping it tight, his other hand still holding his dad's limp one. "You get to be scared," he said.

"I have to be strong," Kurt insisted.

Noah shrugged. "Nothing says you can't be both. You're one of the strongest fucking people I know."

He laughed without mirth. "It's useless, though. Isn't it? There's nothing I can do to help him."

When Noah let his hand go, Kurt thought he was about to walk out. Instead, he came around the other side of the bed. He didn't hesitate to walk right into Kurt's space. "Let go," he insisted, tugging on Kurt's hand. "One minute, babe. Let me be the strong one. Just for a minute."

Kurt felt Noah's words cut right through his resistance. Both his hands went around Noah's back, clutching him tight, and he sobbed incoherently. It took several minutes before he was done, not one, but Noah didn't move away, his quiet voice murmuring in Kurt's ear, keeping him present.

When he let go of Noah at last, Kurt found Noah's hand stroking his cheek, brushing through his hair. He tried to speak, and Noah's fingers brushed his lips, muting the sound.

"So fucking beautiful," Noah whispered.

"Kurt," came Carole's voice from the direction of the hallway.

Noah melted back into the corner of the room, taking a seat in the recliner. He met Carole's face with a much more casual expression than he'd worn a few moments before. She looked surprised to see him, but didn't object to him being there.

"I came to take Kurt back to school for Glee rehearsal," said Noah. "He can get his car and come back to the hospital after school."

"If you want," she said, nodding at Kurt. Kurt nodded back.

"I should go. He - you'll call me, right away, if there's any change?"

"Of course." Carole sat down next to the bed beside his dad. It was the other hand she took, not the one Kurt had hung on to. Kurt stared at that hand for a moment, then turned to Noah.

"You sure?" he asked.

Kurt nodded again. "I'm not going to be of any use to him sitting around here."

"Thank you, Noah," Carole said, and Noah looked over at her, surprised. "For being here. You're a good friend."

"Not really," Noah said. "But it doesn't mean I'm not gonna keep trying."

Kurt followed Noah down the corridor to the elevators, into the parking garage. "Thank you for coming to get me, then."

His voice was low and indistinct, but Kurt was pretty sure he said, "I'm always gonna do that."

Noah held his hand the whole way back. At each traffic light he ran his thumb lightly over Kurt's knuckles, over and over, almost as though he didn't realize he was doing it. He dropped Kurt off by the choir room door.

"You okay?" he asked, watching Kurt's face closely.

Kurt felt himself flush. "My dad's in the hospital. How do you think I am?"

"Been there," Noah agreed, nodding, as he drove away. Kurt didn't wait for him to park; he just went in and sat in the empty choir room, waiting for Glee to begin.

Noah didn't speak to him when he came in, which was fine. It was hard enough to take Santana's sober words about his dad and Finn's anger at being left out.  _It's not always about you,_  he wanted to snap, but Finn didn't need his misplaced frustration any more than any of the rest of them did, so he remained silent.

But then Mercedes tried to give him a spiritual song, and Kurt had to say something.

"Thank you, Mercedes," he told her. "Your voice is stunning, but I don't believe in God. I think God is kind of like... Santa Claus for adults. Otherwise, God's kind of a jerk, isn't he? I mean, he makes me gay and then has his followers going around telling me it's something I chose. Like someone would choose to be mocked every single day of their life. Right now, I don't want a heavenly father - I want my real one back."

Kurt stood and walked out, feeling all their eyes on him. He wasn't going to sit there and listen to Quinn telling him  _this isn't right_. But he couldn't bring himself to drive back to the hospital yet, either, so he just sat behind the wheel of his car with his eyes closed, feeling pissed at Quinn until a knock on his window startled him back to awareness. It was Noah.

"You can tell me to piss off if you want," he said. Kurt shook his head, so he came around to the passenger side and climbed in next to him.

"I can't believe Mercedes," Kurt sighed. "She knows how I feel, but she's pushing her agenda on me anyway. And Quinn - "

"Quinn's had a hell of a year," Noah said. "Don't be mad that God works for her. He works for me, too."

Kurt shot him a bitter look. "You're not here to convert me, are you?"

"Nah. Jews are pretty selective about who they let into their club." He grinned. "You'd make a pretty lame Jew."

"I don't care what anybody else believes. I just don't want anybody wasting their time on prayers."

Noah shook his head. "Prayers aren't a waste of time to the person who's praying. They get something out of it, too. It's like when you read to me."

"I know, I know. Random acts of kindness, blah blah blah." Kurt waved his hand, sighing. But Noah shook his head again.

"No, I mean... I'm sure it's good for the universe, a mitzvah, whatever... but I'm talking about you and me. It makes a connection between us when you read like that. Like when I'm on stage, I can make a... a bridge, kind of, between me and the rest of the audience. I can give everybody a little piece of what's best of me. Make them believe, for a minute, that good can triumph. That - love - will win."

Kurt's mouth was dry, listening to Noah's quiet words. "You really think that happens?" he whispered.

Noah nodded, his eyes on Kurt's. "Yeah. I do."

He thought for a minute. "And you don't think there's something wrong with me," he said, feeling a little desperate, "that I don't believe that?"

"No." Noah shrugged. "You don't have to believe anything at all. You can just enjoy the show." He inclined his head at the steering wheel. "I can drive, if you want."

Kurt got out of the driver's seat while Noah came around to his side. He let himself be aware of Noah's closeness as he slid out of the car, switching places with him. While Noah started the car, he thought about their embrace in his dad's hospital room, how good it had felt to be supported like that.  _Loved,_  he thought. It didn't take too much effort to believe it was true. He was the one to reach out and take Noah's hand this time, and Noah held it tight the whole way back to St. Rita's.

Kurt paused when they got to the parking lot. "Um... are you going to... I mean..."

"I'm staying," said Noah. "Long as that's okay."

Kurt nodded, not quite knowing what to say, other than  _yes, please._  He didn't even know if it was the right choice, just that it was the only one he could make.

"People might talk," he said.

"People can shut the fuck up," Noah replied mildly. "Your dad's sick. The rules don't count."

The woman at the nurse's desk smiled at them as they signed in, and she didn't ask if Noah was family or anything. Carole looked up when Kurt pushed open the door.

"No change," she said. Kurt nodded, taking the seat on the other side of the bed. Noah went back to the chair in the corner.

They received several visitors over the next couple hours, including Mercedes and Tina and Mike, and Andrea and her mother. Every time someone showed up, Noah vanished down the hall, only to appear again after they left. Around dinner time, Carole got her coat.

"I don't think I can stomach hospital food for one more meal," she said. "I don't even eat it at work, and Lima General's cafeteria is a heck of a lot better than St. Rita's. I'm going to pick up Finn from football practice and -" Carole paused, looking at Noah. "Oh. Shouldn't  _you_  be at -?"

"No," he said. "I should be here."

The words made Kurt feel warm inside. He clutched tight to the feeling. It was just about the only good feeling he could identify at the moment, and he didn't want to lose it. Carole gave Kurt a concerned glance, but he nodded.

"All right. I'll be back in a few hours. They're going to kick us out of here at nine." For a moment, she reached over and rested her hand on top of Kurt's, holding Burt's. Then she walked out, closing the door behind her.

Kurt sat very still as Noah stood and walked over to where Kurt was sitting. He closed his eyes as Noah placed his hands on Kurt's shoulders.

"Noah," he murmured, then fell silent again as Noah's thumbs dug into his tense muscles. He let out a shaky breath.

"You hungry?"

_A loaded question,_ he almost said, but he shook his head instead. "You can go eat, if you want," he added.

"I know." Noah fingers stroked more lightly over his skin this time, and Kurt shivered as Noah's hands descended across his chest, crossing to embrace him from behind. "I want to be here."

"We're not going to... I mean, nothing's going to -"

"Hey." Noah sounded offended. "I'm not here for that. You tell me to go, I'll go. But I  _want to be here."_  His arms tightened around Kurt as he spoke, and Kurt felt his own tension ease in response.

"Okay," Kurt agreed. "I wish..."

"What?"

He sighed. "I wish I had the next Ender book in my bag."

Noah laughed, surprised. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I hid them in my desk drawer so I wouldn't have to look at them."

"Well, I guess if we're confessing here, I can tell you I bought a copy of  _Shadow Puppets_ and started reading it on my own."

"Oh!" Kurt turned in his chair to smile up at Noah. Noah let out a little sigh, smiling back.

"Damn, it's good to see you smile."

Kurt felt his cheeks flush, but he didn't move out of Noah's embrace. "I'm proud of you."

Noah laughed again. "Yeah, if you saw how far I'd gotten, you wouldn't be so proud. It's damn slow going." He shifted his hands. "I could bring it tomorrow. I wouldn't mind starting over from the beginning, if you want to read to me."

"Or you could read to me," Kurt suggested. He felt Noah stiffen, and held his breath.

"That's... uh. Imagining doing that... well. Let's say it's almost worse than the idea of standing up in front of everybody and announcing I like getting fucked in the ass."

"God." Kurt stared at him. "It's that bad?"

"It's that bad," Noah said grimly.

"Well, I won't suggest it anymore, then." Then he had another thought. "I stopped at the library on Tuesday after theater club and picked up  _Twelve Angry Men."_

Noah brightened. "Hey, yeah? Which one?"

"Both of them. Doing that dialogue with you..." He reached for words to describe how it had been, but could only manage, "It was amazing."

"Yeah, it's a great play," Noah agreed. "You're gonna come back, right? We do a show in the spring, and you can help choose it."

"Definitely. I mean, I'll have to check with my -" Kurt choked off his last word as he turned toward the bed, stricken. Noah held him tighter.

"I'm sure he'll say yes," he whispered into Kurt's ear. "I'm sure he will."

Kurt turned abruptly in Noah's arms to bury his face in his shirt, gritting his teeth against the crashing tumult of shame and fear.  _I don't get to be happy, if my dad's not going to wake up. I can't._

He clung there for several long moments before he became suddenly aware of several things. First, that he was grabbing Noah's ass. Second, that he was eye level with Noah's astounding abs, grinding his tears into them with the flat of his cheek. And third, that Noah's erection was  _right there,_ inches from his hand. He let go, and Noah did too, taking two steps back.

"Um," he said.

"Yeah," Noah replied quickly. "I should go."

"I'm sorry."

"What, for being hot? No way." Noah gave him a little smile. "You don't have to do anything to turn me on, Kurt. It's just gonna happen."

He wasn't sure what alternate universe he must be in now, to hear Noah saying those words to him, but they did seem to be true. "Me, too," he admitted.

Noah took another two steps back, groaning. "Now I  _really_  should go."

"You don't have a car. If you wait, Carole can -"

"If I wait, I'm gonna stick my hand down your pants and make you come right here," Noah said. He didn't sound like he was joking, but Kurt laughed uneasily anyway.

"You think I'd let you do that?"

Noah put a hand over the bulge in his jeans and gripped it once, firmly. "I think I could make you want it." He turned away. "It wouldn't make it right, but I'd do it anyway."

Kurt struggled for breath. "You'd stop, if I told you to."

"Yeah," said Noah. "But I'm pretty sure you wouldn't tell me to. I'll take the bus."

He was out the door before Kurt could say another word.

* * *

_<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Za5AH7qVlqE> (song starts at 2:10)_

_You say you see no hope_  
 _You say you see no reason we should dream_  
 _That the world would ever change_  
 _You're saying love is foolish to believe_  
 _'Cause there'll always be some crazy_  
 _With an army or a knife_  
 _To wake you from that day dream  
_ _Put the fear back in your life_

_Look, if someone wrote a play_  
 _Just to glorify what's stronger than hate,_  
 _Would they not arrange the stage_  
 _To look as if the hero came too late_  
 _As if he's almost in defeat_  
 _So it's looking like the evil side will win_  
 _So on the edge of every seat  
_ _From the moment that the whole thing begins_

_It is love who makes the mortar_  
 _And it's love who stacked these stones_  
 _And it's love who made the stage here_  
 _And made it feel like we're alone_  
 _In this scene set in shadows_  
 _Like the night is here to stay_  
 _There is evil cast around us_  
 _But it's love that wrote this play_  
 _So in this darkness love can show the way_   


_So now the stage is set_  
 _You feel you own heart beating in your chest_  
 _This life's not over yet_  
 _So we get up on our feet and do our best_  
 _We play against the fear_  
 _We play against the reasons not to try_  
 _We're playing for the tears  
_ _Burning in the happy angel's eyes_

_It is love who makes the mortar_  
 _And it's love who stacked these stones_  
 _And it's love who made the stage here_  
 _And made it feel like we're alone_  
 _In this scene set in shadows_  
 _Like the night is here to stay_  
 _There is evil cast around us_  
 _But it's love that wrote this play  
_ _So in this darkness love can show the way_

_\- David Wilcox, "Show the Way"_


	14. Fall 2010 continued

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More heavy quoting from certain scenes in 2x03 Grilled Cheesus, as well as some vague references to masturbation. Also, if you have been ignoring the links to music, take a moment to listen to the song Noah sings in this chapter. The story behind that: I had three days at home alone this holiday, and I spent it mostly writing and listening to my entire iTunes library on shuffle - all 10,573 songs. Needless to say I came across a few songs I'd never heard before. In this case, it was even a group I'd never heard of before, a Canadian band called Modabo. But, as often happens to me, the song was absolutely perfect for this chapter. Synchronicity strikes again. 
> 
> -amy)

Kurt didn't talk to Noah again until the following evening, back in the hospital, when the acupuncturist was just setting out her needles.

"Dude," he said angrily, "you didn't have to toss Rachel and Quinn and Mercedes out of your dad's room. Prayers aren't going to hurt him. They were just trying to help."

"Noah, this is not the time," Kurt told him. The headache he'd had all day was getting worse, but he knew he didn't have any grounds on which to complain, considering his dad's unchanged state. "Please leave."

"You gonna throw me out too? Think you're the only one who's feeling bad here?"

" _Noah,"_  he said again. Noah frowned.

"Fine. I'll be waiting out in the hallway. You skipped lunch again today."

He closed his eyes, pressing a hand to his forehead. "Just - go home."

"No way. You're going to eat something, if I have to force it down your throat."

Kurt glared at him, refusing to look away even when he saw Noah flush red.

"That's not what I meant," Noah muttered.

"I know." Kurt felt his lip twitch. Then Noah rolled his eyes, and Kurt had to press his lips together to prevent the awful, explosive laugh from escaping. He gestured Noah toward the hallway, rushing after him, emerging in barely enough time to shut the door behind him and collapse against Noah in helpless paroxysms of hysteria.

"Kurt, I didn't mean -" Noah protested, but Kurt shook his head, struggling to regain his composure.

"No, no," he said, wiping his eyes. "It's okay, I know, I just -" He looked up, and Noah's expression was so  _indignant._  That was all it took for him to lose it again, giggling into Noah's chest.

"For fuck's sake, Kurt," he said, but Kurt could hear him smiling now, too. "Is that all I have to do to get you to relax? Tell you dirty jokes?"

"Dirty  _puns,_ " Kurt clarified. "They're my kryptonite."

"Oh really." Noah cupped Kurt's head from behind to steady him. "Awesome."

After a few moments, Kurt eased himself away from Noah's support, seeing as how he was practically plastered against him there in the very public hospital hallway. "I should probably get back in there. I'm hoping the acupuncture will improve the oxygen flow to my dad's brain."

"Good luck with that. I'll be in the waiting room." He grinned. "You let me know when you're ready to... eat."

Kurt couldn't help let out a snort, and he could hear Noah chuckling as he sauntered away.

* * *

Kurt was already in bed Thursday night when he got a call from Noah. "Hey," he said sleepily. "What's going on?"

"Finn just won us the football game, that's what. Sam dislocated his shoulder, so Finn's the quarterback again, and we totally crushed the other team."

"I'll say congratulations, because even though I think football is kind of immoral and pointless, I still maintain a sense of loyalty to my former team." He smiled at Noah's excitement. "And - let me guess - now you're all going to go out and consume mass quantities of carbohydrate-laden junk food and caffeinated beverages, in homage to my father who lies in the hospital following a heart attack?"

"Uh... maybe?"

Kurt chuckled. "Don't worry. I won't rain on your parade. I already feel too guilty about buying tickets to the sing-a-long Sound of Music tomorrow night."

"Hey, don't tell me you think your dad would rather have you sitting around moping about him instead of doing something you love?"

"Maybe?" He propped himself up on one elbow and reached over the edge of the bed for his messenger bag. "I mean, the day before his heart attack we had a conversation at the garage. He basically told me point blank that being with your family was more important than having fun."

Noah sounded dubious. "I know your dad pretty well, and I doubt he'd say that. I think he wants to spend time with you."

He sighed. "I know. I just wanted him to understand how it is for me, as a teenager."

" _I would my father look'd but with my eyes,"_  Noah murmured.

Kurt paused in rummaging around in his bag and sat there for a moment, shaking his head and trying to tame the ridiculous smile that tipped the corners of his cheeks.

"So I took  _Shadow Puppets_  out of my desk last night."

"Yeah?" Noah said.

"I suppose I could have read the beginning to get caught up, but the thought of reading it without you left me even more depressed than I already was. So, if you don't mind, maybe I could read it now, and you could just listen patiently?"

Noah chuckled. "I guess I could handle that, sure."

Kurt read the first chapter. The characters of Peter, Bean and Achilles were as familiar as old friends, and he relished each one as he spoke their words. He used a different voice for each one, trying to be subtle. When he reached chapter two, he interjected, "You let me know when we've caught up to where you left off."

"Oh, you already passed it. I read slower in my head than you read out loud."

"Huh." He put the book back into his bag, wondering. "Do you read more slowly out loud than you do in your head?"

"I don't know," said Noah. "I haven't read anything out loud since I was Sarah's age."

"Well, thanks for calling, Noah. And congratulations, again."

"Thanks. Good night, Kurt."

Kurt imagined what tomorrow night would probably be like, attending the sing-a-long alone. Then he imagined what it would have been like if his dad hadn't been lying unconscious at the hospital. They would have dinner at six instead of seven with Finn and Carole. Afterwards they would sit around his dad's prize 57" projection screen and watched  _Twelve Angry Men._  Maybe Noah could have come over, too.

Except Kurt had barely been speaking to Noah two days ago. He never would have called to talk to him, much less invite him over.  _Things can change so quickly._

He wiped his eyes on the edge of his sheet and went to sleep, holding onto that hope as tightly as he'd held on to his dad's hand.

* * *

Kurt asked Mr. Schue to call Glee club together for ten minutes before lunch on Friday so he could sing  _I Wanna Hold Your Hand._ Quinn was the first to stop him on the way out of the choir room, her face streaked with tears.

"Kurt," she whispered. "That song, it was... beautiful. Just, you really moved me."

He nodded stiffly. "Thank you, Quinn. I appreciate the compliment, but the song wasn't for you."

"I know." She smiled. "It was for your dad. I know you don't pray, but I think this might be something close to it."

"No," he snapped. "Don't you get it? It couldn't be for my dad, because my dad couldn't  _hear_  it. My dad's unconscious in the hospital downtown. The song was for  _me._  I had to express myself. That was it. No tricks, no mumbo-jumbo, no prayer. Do you understand?"

Quinn's smile had vanished, her face pale. "I understand. But don't ask me to feel good that you live in a world so devoid of faith."

The second person to stop him was Mercedes, at his locker. "I know you're going through a really scary time right now," she said, "but I don't feel like I know how to be around you anymore. I know you're not spiritual, but... I feel like you're closing yourself to a world of experiences that might surprise you."

Kurt felt a stab of guilt as he considered how he'd basically concealed the last two years of his life from Mercedes. When it came to his friendship with Noah, she knew almost nothing. "You're right. I'm sorry. I shouldn't be pushing my friends away... especially friends as fabulous as you." It was more this guilt than anything that made him agree to attend church with her on Sunday.

And then in Glee, Finn sang  _Losing My Religion._ He was clearly determined to get something across to Kurt, staring at him while he sang.

This time, Kurt was the one to approach him afterwards. He backed Finn into the space behind the piano and spoke to him  _sotto voce._ "Can you explain why you sang a song about being in the closet? To me?"

Finn did the confused fish face for about five seconds before shaking his head. "No. It wasn't about that at all. It was about - well, come on, Kurt, it's called  _Losing My Religion._  It's about that. _"_

Kurt felt the headache threatening to return. "Finn, I think I need to sit down with you and have the 'being the brother of a gay kid' talk, so you won't make every possible social gaffe. I'm telling you, people are going to hear what you just sang and think you're trying to come out to me."

Now Finn looked irritated. "Really? After a whole week of doing songs about religion, I think people are going to have a pretty clear idea about why I sang it. Plus I  _explained it,_  in Glee. If they don't believe me, so what?" He shook his head. "Seriously, Kurt, if people don't get it by now that you're gay and I'm straight, I don't really  _care._  That's their problem, not mine. I'm not going to stop expressing myself just because some people will interpret it wrong. I thought  _you_  taught me that."

Kurt found himself on the edge of tears for the second time that day. "Finn..."

Finn put a hand on Kurt's shoulder, his irritation dropping away in the face of concern. "What? What is it?"

"Nothing." He shook his head. "Dammit. You're right. And I'm still an idiot."

"Well... thanks," said Finn, confused. "But I don't think you're an idiot at all."

"No. I really, really am. Albert Einstein once said that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. That's what I'm doing."

"I don't understand."

Kurt carefully didn't look across the room at Noah, skulking by the choir room entrance. "It's... remember the guy? The one I was... doing stuff with, all summer?"

"Oh, yeah. Him." Finn looked a little uncomfortable, but he nodded. "What about him?"

"He's back, kind of. And I think I just realized I was all set to give him another chance, but... he's still the same." Kurt gave Finn a bleak smile, and sang a line from  _Losing My Religion_ :  _"I think I thought I saw you try / But that was just a dream."_

"Oh." Finn scratched his neck, and in a very quiet voice, he said, "I think you can do better. Than him."

Kurt nodded. "I think I can, too." Then he hugged Finn, and after a startled moment, Finn hugged him back. "Thank you."

"Don't tell him I said that, okay?" Finn added, with an anxious smile. "I think he might beat me up or something."

Kurt pretended not to notice Noah stalking him on the way to his car, but he still jumped when he turned around and found Noah waiting there, looking for all the world like a cat in a room full of rocking chairs.

"You going to the hospital?" Noah asked. Kurt nodded. "Mind if I tag along?" When Kurt hesitated, Noah added, "I have something for you. Maybe I could give it to you there."

"Noah..."

"It's nothing, um. Inappropriate." The word sounded vaguely dirty in Noah's mouth, but Kurt trusted that he was being truthful. He nodded again, more warily.

"I'll follow you in my truck," said Noah. "I have to take my sister to this thing tonight, so I'm gonna have to take off early."

At the hospital, Noah met Kurt outside the elevator, holding his guitar case. Kurt made a pointed glance at the instrument, but Noah just shrugged. "All this talk about prayer and stuff, I guess I got inspired."

They were the first ones visiting Burt's room that day. Carole was still at work, and Kurt appeared to have successfully scared off most of the rest of the over-enthusiastic well-wishers.  _What he needs more than anything is time to rest,_  he thought,  _but judging by the presence of Noah's guitar, he might not get that today._

Noah was a lot more restless than usual, perching first on the edge of the bed, then standing to pace the room, his guitar strapped over his shoulder. He gave Kurt a tentative smile, but that just made him wonder what Noah might be up to.

"Are you going to sing a song?" Kurt finally asked. "I think if you're not, you should probably put the guitar away before you hurt something."

"In a minute." Noah dug a hand in his pocket, and brought out a small paper-wrapped package. He thrust it at Kurt. "Here."

Kurt stared at the package blankly. "You... got me a present?"

"I made you something. In shop class." Noah started talking, and the words kind of fell over each other, swiftly and anxiously landing before him, faster than Kurt could make sense of them. "We had metalworking last week, and I had some silver left over, which isn't really too easy to work in, but it's a hell of a lot easier than reading, so I figured you kind of deserved it after everything you've given me, you know? Not that I feel like I owe you or anything, but... anyway, it should fit you. I tried it on myself, and you've got smaller hands..."

Kurt held the three-quarters curve, tied with a piece of leather, like he couldn't quite connect it with what Noah was saying. Then he got it. "You made me a bracelet." He looked up at Noah. "You  _made_  me a bracelet?"

Noah was blushing furiously through his scowl. "Well, yeah. It has... some words on it. And, um. After what you sang this morning, I had the idea that... I'd sing them to you."

Kurt sank down on the chair beside his dad's bed, watching Noah lift the guitar and tune it with a practiced hand. He felt the smooth silver under his fingers, the rounded edges, the rough leather tie. There were faint grooves cut into its surface, but he wasn't taking his eyes off Noah and his guitar. "Okay."

The guitar line was pretty and lyrical, but it wasn't until Noah opened his mouth and started singing, glancing shyly up at Kurt every few seconds, that Kurt actually realized Noah had written this song  _for him,_  and that he was singing it  _right now._

<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sJEd5YyHbU8>

_It's not enough for me to know_  
 _That you're feeling down_  
 _That your emotions overflow_  
 _And your tears fall to the ground_  
 _Could it be you've been worried too much_  
 _I do that myself all the time_  
 _So on this bracelet I've engraved  
_ _Words for just one more night_

 _Hold tight, don't let go_  
 _Put your hand in mine_  
 _Hold tight, hold tight  
_ _Hold tight, put your hand in mine_

Kurt felt the tears coalescing as Noah sang the first four lines, but when Noah said  _I do that myself all the time_ , smiling gently, he had to cover his mouth to keep himself from falling apart entirely. When he mentioned the bracelet, Kurt finally looked at it. It was heavy, carefully shaped in an ellipse to fit around his wrist. The words were artistically engraved on the matte surface with graceful, curving strokes, surrounded on either side by _fleurs des lis:_

HOLD TIGHT • DON'T LET GO

Noah moved forward until he was close enough for Kurt to touch him, but Kurt hung back, trying to contain what was left of himself - and to keep listening, because Noah wasn't done yet. The words in the second half were more cryptic, but Kurt thought he could figure out what Noah was trying to say:

 _Nothing ventured, nothing gained_  
 _I know you know it's true_  
 _But half the world's not a price to pay_  
 _If it stands between me and you_  
 _Now, could it be you've been worried too much  
_ _Honey, I do that myself all the time_

 _Hold tight, don't let go_  
 _Put your hand in mine_  
 _Hold tight, hold tight  
_ _Hold tight, put your hand in mine_

By the time Noah strummed the last chord and lowered his guitar, there were two very distinct trains of thought running through Kurt's head. One was what passed as the voice of reason, which said  _look, you just told Finn you weren't going to give him another chance, and nothing's changed, has it? so just calm down,_  and so on. The other was jumping up and down and pressing its hands together and squealing with unadulterated joy, saying something like  _omg omg he just wrote you a SONG and isn't that the most romantic thing in the whole world?_ Most of Kurt's body, unfortunately, seemed to be listening to the second voice; his hand dropped from his mouth to his chest, and he had to work very hard at not hyperventilating. In the meantime, Noah was surely waiting for a response from him.

"You made all of this for me?" he asked.

Noah's smile was almost more astonishing than anything else Kurt had just witnessed. It was - well,  _sweet._  Kurt gaped at him. He set his guitar aside, taking Kurt's hand and pulling him to his feet.

"I kind of love you a lot," said Noah. "And watching you, missing your dad, and dealing with all the shit people have been throwing at you about religion... it just made me realize what a lot of crap I let get in the way of that."

He stepped forward and reached out a hand, cupping Kurt's face and tilting it up the inch it needed to meet his gaze directly. Kurt's voice of reason was definitely getting shouted down by his inner middle-school student now. He searched Noah's hazel eyes for any kind of fear or uncertainty, but he didn't find any.

"I don't know what to say," he admitted, somewhat proud to hear that the tremor in his voice was barely noticeable.

"That's okay," Noah told him. "I don't really need you to say anything."

Then he was leaning in, and Kurt felt a flurry of panic as he realized Noah was going to kiss him, right there in front of his  _father_.

"I - I can't." He shrank back against the bed, shaking his head. "Not here. My dad -"

"Yeah, well, if I'm gonna start somewhere, might as well try it on people who really matter, huh?" Noah turned Kurt a quarter turn, so they were both facing the bed, Kurt tucked under his arm. "Hey, Mr. H., I'm not sure if you can hear me or not, but I'm in love with your son. Hope that's okay with you."

Kurt cringed. "That's not funny, Noah. He's sick."

"You think I'm kidding?" Noah stared at him. "Did that song sound like a joke to you, Kurt? I'm being completely serious here."

It was entirely possible Noah could have persuaded him this was true if, at that moment, the doorknob hadn't rattled and the door swung open. Noah jumped back away from him, guilt written all over his face. He retreated to the far corner, not looking at Carole as she entered. If she noticed Kurt's discomfort, she didn't say anything about it.

"Hi, Kurt. Noah." Carole moved quickly to Burt's side, touching his forehead. Then she sighed, settling into the seat next to the bed. "Kurt, you'd better get going soon if you're going to pick up your tickets before the movie. I'll text you if anything changes."

Kurt watched Noah heading for the door with frustration. "Yeah," he said finally. He didn't know what else he  _could_  say, not without revealing to Noah that Carole knew what was going on between them. Kurt wasn't going to make that mistake twice.

 _But he told your dad._  Surprisingly, that was the voice of reason talking.  _Whether your dad heard it or not, he could have. Might have. Maybe Noah's not teasing. Maybe this could be a real step forward._

"Noah," he said. Noah paused by the door, glancing back at him, and gave a tiny shake of his head.

"I'll see you later, Mrs. H, Mr. H." He didn't bother to close the door behind him.

"Will you be back later, Kurt?" Carole asked. She already sounded exhausted.

"Yeah," he said. "I'll come back after the show and visit with him a while before bed."

In the elevator, Kurt took a moment to examine the bracelet. He didn't think he could tie the leather strap tight enough to keep it on, not without help. Eventually he slipped it into his pocket.  _I don't want to lose it,_  he told himself.  _Especially now, when it's so new._  But he had to admit he was also thinking about someone else noticing it, and wondering what he might say about it if they asked. He wasn't sure he was ready to answer that question.

He leaned heavily against the wall of the elevator, Noah's words washing over him once more. Just thinking about them made him feel lightheaded, and tingly all over, like he might have taken a bite of something bad for him.  _It's the poison apple from Snow White,_  he thought randomly.  _I'm under a spell._  But he managed to get in his car and drive across town.

Kurt picked up his tickets from the cinema box office and made his way through the crowded lobby to the theater. He always sat in the front row of the back section, because even though he knew this was supposed to be a sing-along, he was accustomed to getting dirty looks from people when he sang too loudly. This way there was nobody in front of him. He settled back, trying to relax.

"Is this seat taken?"

Kurt turned, looking up, and the negative reply he'd been about to give died on his lips as he saw Noah standing there. Sarah clambered into the seat beside him, grinning at his expression.

"You were right," she said matter-of-factly to Noah. "He was surprised." Then, to Kurt, "Do you sing the Maria part or the Captain von Trapp part?"

"Um - usually Maria."

"Trade places with me, squirt," Noah said. He helped her shift her popcorn to the seat on the aisle, and sat down next to Kurt. He nodded apologetically at the screen. "This okay? That we're here? My mom asked me to take Sarah before I realized you were going."

"Oh, no, it's fine," Kurt said. "I know... well, I imagine it's not really your thing."

Noah shrugged. "No, but it's Sarah's thing. She sits through plenty of my film dramas. Anyway, somebody told me recently it's important for family to spend time together."

"Sounds like a wise idea." He felt Noah's leg brushing against his as the lights went down.

Before the first preview was over, Noah's hand was resting on his knee. Kurt slid his hand under Noah's, clasping their palms together. "Your - the bracelet - it's in my pocket. I couldn't put it on by myself."

Noah squeezed his hand. "Maybe you'll let me put it on you later," he murmured.

"Maybe." He felt a shiver of possibility, even as his voice of reason was shooting him disapproving looks and tapping its foot. "We can talk about it."

"Jeez, you and all your talking." He could hear Noah grinning in the dark. "Don't you think we've done enough of that?"

Kurt caught his breath as Noah let his hand go and ran fingers along the inside of his thigh, returning to rest on his knee again. "Maybe," he repeated. "But - not during  _Sound of Music._ Okay? It's about the most wholesome movie I know, and I don't really want to corrupt it."

Noah removed his hand with a good-natured sigh, and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "Yeah, okay. I can take a hint."

Kurt felt a strange combination of disappointment and relief, but he turned his eyes to the screen and allowed himself to be carried away by Julie Andrews' optimism. He thought at first he might feel a little embarrassed to sing Maria's grand, sweeping solo in front of Noah, but it didn't take long before he was caught up with the rest of the audience. Noah didn't sing along, not that Kurt expected him to, but Sarah was rapt, alternately staring at the screen and Kurt with awe.

"Noah, he's really  _good,"_  she exclaimed, and he shushed her with an embarrassed laugh.

"Yeah, he is," said Noah. "Watch the movie, okay?"

Kurt had most of the movie memorized, but he restrained himself from reciting the entire script along with the cast, sticking to just the singing parts. Sarah giggled uncontrollably at the nuns saying the word  _flibbertigibbet,_  but Kurt didn't understand exactly why until Noah leaned to whisper into his ear: "It's a word that Shakespeare uses sometimes. It means, like, a goblin or forest creature." He grinned. "You know.  _Puck."_

Somewhere in the middle of Maria's song "I Have Confidence," Kurt relaxed back into his chair to find Noah's arm waiting there to encircle his shoulders. He glanced at Noah, startled, returning his smile nervously.

"You really are," Noah murmured. "Good."

Kurt looked away, his face burning. Something about having Noah right there, hearing him speak the kind of words he'd said to Kurt all summer on the phone, left him unable to utter a sound. But Noah didn't seem to be interested in moving his arm anytime soon. On the contrary, he tightened his hold, pulling Kurt toward him.

"We're in the front row of the movie theater," Kurt said under his breath, "with two hundred of our closest friends."

"In the dark." Noah turned and brushed his nose against Kurt's ear, humming approval. "And everybody's watching the movie, not us. God... you smell good."

"Noah," he said, and the word came out in a strangled whine, sounding nothing like his own voice. He got a grip on himself and said it again, more firmly this time. " _Noah."_

"Right. Watching the movie." Noah sat back, letting Kurt's shoulder go, and again, Kurt felt a sense of loss at the absence of contact. But it was what he'd asked for. He set his jaw and ignored the persistent response of his body to Noah's words, Noah's warmth, Noah's breath on his ear.

Noah kept his hands to himself for a good long time after that. Kurt sang along with "My Favorite Things," "Sixteen Going On Seventeen" and "Do Re Mi." It wasn't until the conclusion of "The Lonely Goatherd" that Kurt caught Noah's lips moving along with some of the lyrics. When Captain von Trapp got out his guitar to sing "Edelweiss," Kurt was watching. Sure enough, Noah was singing quietly.

Kurt reached around to link through Noah's arm where it rested on his knee, and laced their fingers together. Noah stopped singing at his touch, but when he saw Kurt's encouraging smile, picked it up again, louder and with more confidence. It warmed Kurt inside to hear the voice that had sung to him just a few hours earlier, now singing the familiar lyrics from  _The Sound of Music_.

 _He loves you,_  said his heart, and it all but drowned out the other voice of caution, the one that said  _he won't follow through; he's not really what you need._

"You do know this musical," Kurt said, when the song was over. Noah sighed.

"We did it in Dayton in 2003," he said. "I played one of the kids."

Kurt stared at him, astonished. "You - really? Which one?"

Noah gave him an enigmatic smile. "Kurt."

Kurt sat with this amazing piece of information for several minutes. He considered exactly how he might call the Dayton opera house or Mr. Puckerman and acquire photos or video of that performance. Then he remembered the scrapbook. "Your dad didn't have any pictures of you in that one."

"No." Noah looked over at Sarah, who was curled around her bucket of popcorn, her thumb in her mouth and her glazed eyes glued to the screen. "He was in the hospital."

Kurt put his other hand around their two clasped hands, cradling Noah's in his. On an impulse, he lifted the hand to his mouth and pressed his lips to Noah's skin. Even over the sound of the movie, Kurt heard Noah's surprised intake of breath. He sat forward, leaning closer, resting their heads together.

They sat like that, Kurt exquisitely aware of every detail of Noah's presence, as Maria left the von Trapp family and returned to the abbey. He barely noticed the abbess singing "Climb Ev'ry Mountain," but when Maria returned to confront the Captain and confess her love, Kurt sang along. The lyrics seemed to have particular importance now:

<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RNdl-HIkDqQ>

_Perhaps I had a wicked childhood_  
 _Perhaps I had a miserable youth_  
 _But somewhere in my wicked, miserable past  
_ _There must have been a moment of truth_

 _For here you are, standing there, loving me_  
 _Whether or not you should_  
 _So somewhere in my youth or childhood  
_ _I must have done something good_

 _Nothing comes from nothing_  
 _Nothing ever could_  
 _So somewhere in my youth or childhood  
_ _I must have done something good_

Noah listened to Kurt singing Maria's part, and Kurt wasn't even surprised when he joined along with the Captain's response:

 _For here you are, standing there, loving me_  
 _Whether or not you should_  
 _So somewhere in my youth or childhood  
_ _I must have done something good_

 _Nothing comes from nothing_  
 _Nothing ever could_  
 _So somewhere in my youth or childhood  
_ _I must have done something good_

It was almost as if they'd never sung together before, even though they'd been doing that at least once week for over a year in Glee club. Kurt sighed in pleasure. "Your harmonies are lovely."

"They just come out," said Noah. "Hey, I'm no Christopher Plummer."

Kurt smiled. This time, he was the one to turn his head and nuzzle Noah's neck, speaking into his ear and making Noah's breath come a little faster. "His singing was actually dubbed by Bill Lee." He paused, then added, before he lost his nerve, "Anyway, you're a lot hotter than Christopher Plummer."

"Yeah?" Noah turned toward him, so close that their noses were almost brushing. "I guess it wouldn't be so cool for me to kiss you right here in the middle of the theater."

"Um." He could barely get the words out. "Probably not."

Kurt wondered if this was what people meant when they said  _thinking with your dick._ It actually didn't feel anything like that. It was more like he was thinking more clearly than he ever had before. It was the wordy part of his mind that kept breaking in with such cockblocking thoughts as  _he's using you,_  and  _what makes you think he would ever want you,_ and the ever-present  _you deserve more than this._

More than anything, Kurt wanted to lean in and close the distance between them and feel their lips touch. Because, wow, first kiss at sing-a-long Sound of Music;  _that_  would have been something worth waiting for. But he was still aware enough of the couple sitting behind them, and the group of middle-school kids two aisles over, and Noah's own little sister almost asleep in the seat next to them.

"Yeah." The word hovered on Noah's parted lips for several seconds before he unwound his fingers from Kurt's, placing them back on the armrest. "Can you keep an eye on Sarah for a minute?"

"Where are you going?" he asked.

Noah turned to him, raising an eyebrow. Then he reached out and took Kurt's hand, pulling it toward him. Before Kurt could say or do anything - object, or snatch his hand away, or moan, or  _anything_  - Noah placed the hand directly over the firm, hot bulge in his jeans.

Then he let go, standing up, and leaned in just briefly to mutter, "Getting back some of my self-control," before heading down the side aisle to the lobby.

Kurt sat there trembling, trying to decide if he should feel - violated, or something. Anything else other than instantly, completely turned on, which was pretty much how he felt.  _So much for not corrupting The Sound of Music,_  he thought unhappily.

He waited for his own arousal to subside as Austria was annexed into the Third Reich in the Anschluss. But before the von Trapp family were even done singing in the Salzburg Festival, Noah was back - quickly enough that Kurt was left with a detailed, vivid image of exactly how fast Noah must have acted to  _get his self control_  back. This didn't do much to alleviate Kurt's own situation. He clenched the armrests of his chair in desperation.

Noah didn't meet Kurt's gaze; he just stared fixedly at the screen. The flickering light of the screen was enough to illuminate Noah's flushed cheeks.

"You can go next," he said quietly. "If you want."

That was almost too much for Kurt. He managed, barely, to sit through the last fifteen minutes of the movie. Then, while Maria and the Captain and the seven children escaped over the Alps into Switzerland, he stood, awkwardly brushing past Noah's knees into the aisle and out of the theater, ignoring Noah's hushed voice calling after him.

He didn't cry, not even when he got to the safety of his car, but he wrestled with a whole host of emotions - anger, disappointment, frustration, guilt - for several minutes before calling Noah.

Noah didn't pick up right away - and god, Kurt really wasn't ready to leave this message on voice mail - but finally he did. "Getting Sarah into the car," he said, somewhat out of breath. "She's a lot heavier asleep than awake."

Kurt brought his foot down on his brake a little harder than necessary, and his car gave a little screech and a jerk before stopping at the light. "I'm trying not to be completely pissed at you."

"God, Kurt, what the fuck do you want from me?" Noah snapped back. "I was just trying to be responsible -"

"Yeah. I asked you to keep it PG. This was a piece of my  _childhood._  And then you leave in the middle of the movie to... and you expect me to wait there, with that idea in my head, and you really think that's being responsible?"

"Hey, I wasn't the only one there in that theater," Noah said, his voice rising. "You were all holding my hand, and kissing my fingers, and talking right into my fucking  _ear,_ god - you  _know_  what you do to me..."

Kurt scowled at the intersection, making every effort to put the blame on Noah, to make it his fault, but it didn't take much longer than one cycle of the traffic light for him to give up.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm just... confused. I don't know if this is a good idea or not."

Noah barked a laugh. "A good idea, Kurt? It's a fucking  _terrible_  idea. It always has been. A guy like you, and a guy like me..."

"Yeah." He exhaled as he accelerated through the light, trying not to descend into despair. "I think I knew that. Know that."

"Yeah. But... babe." The name floated there in the air before him, making him grit his teeth. "How long have we been telling ourselves that? A year? Two? And now, I'm just about ready to say fuck it; I don't care if it's a terrible idea. Because you make me want so many things I never thought I could even  _have_  before."

Kurt carefully changed lanes and turned right at the next corner, keeping his breathing as regular as he could. "I know. But I feel... like maybe I should be more sure than I am that I'm doing the right thing. Like, maybe I should be able to look back on the last half hour and think, yeah, that was okay, and to be able to trust that the next half hour is going to be okay too."

"Sure." Noah sounded bitter. "And in the meantime, how's your fucking  _right now?_  Because  _right now,_ I'm missing you. How about you, Kurt?"

He pulled over to the curb, closing his eyes. "It's not that simple."

"No, I think it's exactly that simple. I want you as much as I did two years ago. I don't know, maybe more. You sure made me come pretty fucking hard a half hour ago in the john, I'll tell you that."

Kurt felt his traitorous body respond with enthusiasm to the image, and he moaned. "Noah..."

"So... I think I laid it all out for you today. This is me, what I am. I can be there for you, to hold your hand, when things suck. I can perform the shit out of any script you throw at me. I can sing with you at stupid Rodgers & Hammerstein musicals. I can make you come hard enough to pass out. But I'm not perfect. I'm not that smart; my grades kind of suck. I'm not very nice. I'm scared to death of what people would say if they found out I'm hot for another guy. But I fucking  _love you,_  Kurt." He sighed. "That's what I've got. So when you decide if that's what you want... you know where to find me."

Kurt listened to the silence that followed this impassioned soliloquy. He set the phone down on the seat next to him, pressing the palms of his hands to his eyes as he tried to untangle his muddled thoughts.

The preponderance of evidence seemed, incredibly, to be tipping the balance in favor of Noah. And yet, he thought about Finn's words to him that afternoon:  _I think you can do better,_  and his own answer:  _Yeah, I think so, too._  Was that even true anymore? And how could he possibly know, with his father lying ill in the hospital?

That answer, at least, seemed clear: he couldn't. Kurt put his car back into gear and slowly pulled away from the curb, making his way across town to St. Rita's.

Carole smiled at him when he arrived at his dad's room. "No change," she said. "How was the sing-a-long?"

"More stressful than usual," he replied. "I think I need a little quiet time alone with my dad."

She nodded. "Finn and I will be at your house tonight, so just come home when you're done." He hugged her when she stood up. This was unusual enough for her to look more closely at him when he pulled away. "You okay?"

"I think so." It was true enough. He tried to smile reassuringly. "I won't be here too long."

Kurt took the seat next to his dad's bed, the plastic still warm from Carole's body, and picked up his limp hand, giving it a squeeze.

"Dad," he whispered. "Um... I don't know if you heard... any of what happened earlier. Noah, he was here, and he... he gave me something. A couple somethings." He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out the paper-wrapped bracelet, unwrapping it. Awkwardly, he tied the end into a bow, then squeezed his hand through the loop. He read the words:  _Hold tight. Don't let go,_ and moved his dad's fingers to brush over the smooth silver. "This. And a song... and a promise, I think? I don't know. It sure seemed like one."

He sighed. "I don't know what to do. I'm just worried, I guess, that I might make the wrong choice. That I'm putting too much importance on this. I promised myself a long time ago I wouldn't settle, but I don't know if can tell the difference between settling and making a scary choice. I know he's just a boy; I don't really need him." He shook his head. "No... that's not it. I'm scared to  _let_  myself need him." He moved his gaze up to his dad's unconscious face. "Almost as much as I'm scared to need you, I think. But... I could really use my dad's advice right now, so... if you think you could, maybe... come back soon?"

There was no answer. He hadn't expected one, except maybe in the smallest part of his heart that still believed in magic. The rest of himself stood, resigned, and let his dad's hand go, and walked out the door.

* * *

Kurt didn't come back to the hospital until Sunday afternoon, after spending the morning at Mercedes' church service. It had been an opportunity to wear a great hat and feel awkward, which was probably better than sitting around the house not doing his homework and wondering if he should call Noah.

He sighed, redoing the snaps the blue-spotted hospital gown over his dad's shoulder. "You never could dress yourself." Then he seated himself in the familiar brown naugahyde chair next to the bed. "Mercedes took me to church this morning. It's funny, but... when the choir was singing, this memory flashed into my head. Do you remember our first Friday night dinner after Mom died? You tried to make a chicken... I guess you wanted me to feel like something was still normal." He smiled through the tears that seemed to be ever-present these days. "You put it on the table and cut into it... and it was  _raw._ And we both looked at each other for a second, and cracked up before we remembered that we weren't supposed to yet."

Kurt glanced up at the empty doorway. "Something like that happened with Noah the other day. It was ill-timed, and inappropriate, and... I still couldn't stop laughing. I guess I really needed to laugh. I think sometimes, things just happen. Things you don't expect, or even want, but... maybe you need them anyway."

His smile slipped away. "I'm sorry about the other day. I should have let those guys pray for you. It wasn't about me; it was about you, and... it was nice." He took a shaky breath. "Mercedes said that I've got to believe in something I can't touch, taste or see. That life is too hard to go through it alone, without something that's sacred. Well... I don't believe in god, Dad, but I believe in you. And I believe in us. You and me. That's what sacred to me. And I am so sorry I never got to tell you that."

It was so faint, Kurt thought maybe he'd imagined it. He held his dad's hand lightly, holding his breath. But, no, there it was again: a faint squeeze.

"Dad?" he whispered. He rose to his feet, calling, "Nurse Nancy?" The tears fell, but he didn't care, he just hung onto his dad's hand.  _Hold tight. Don't let go._  "I'm right here, Dad. I'm not going anywhere."

He watched as parts of his dad shifted out of its stasis: a finger, a shoulder, a knee. Finally his head turned on the pillow, and his eyes opened just a little. Kurt heard his dad make a soft sound. Kurt thought, maybe, in that moment, he understood the meaning of the word  _miraculous._  He swallowed the sob in his throat.

He didn't think about calling Carole or Finn. If he'd been thinking more rationally, he might have decided that this meant something important. But those thoughts didn't come until much later, until long after the nurses had shuffled him gently and firmly into the corner of the room, and his dad had spoken several intelligible words, including  _Kurt_  and  _love you_ , and Kurt had blown his nose four times. He'd just found his phone in his hand, his fingers texting the words  _My dad woke up. I think he's going to be okay._

Noah's response was immediate.  _Fucking awesome. on my way. you need anything?_

Kurt blew his nose a fifth time and smiled.  _Yeah, I think I might._

* * *

<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sJEd5YyHbU8>

_Nothing ventured, nothing gained_  
 _I know you know it's true_  
 _But half the world's not a price to pay_  
 _If it stands between me and you_  
 _Now, could it be you've been worried too much  
_ _Honey, I do that myself all the time_

 _Hold tight, don't let go_  
 _Put your hand in mine_  
 _Hold tight, hold tight  
_ _Hold tight, put your hand in mine_

_\- Modabo, "Hold Tight"_


	15. Fall 2010, part three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so just in case you aren't paying attention, the episode following Burt's heart attack is a pretty light one, but it still might contain some angst for our two boys. Just wanted to make sure you were prepared. 
> 
> -amy

Carole and Finn arrived at his dad's hospital room before Noah did. Burt was lucid, but he tired quickly, and the nurses banished the three of them to the waiting room while they did more tests and gave him an opportunity to rest.

By the time lunch rolled around, Noah still wasn't there, nor was he answering Kurt's texts. Carole watched him dial Noah's number with barely muted happiness. "Is everything okay, Kurt?"

"I don't know," he said. "Noah said he was on his way over an hour ago, but now I can't get through to him on his phone. I guess I'll just keep trying."

The last time he called, Kurt walked down the hall for a little privacy and left a long message. "Noah... I'm not sure why you're not responding to my calls, but I want you to know my dad's awake, and talking, and the doctors are cautiously optimistic for a full recovery. He's resting right now. We'll probably be here at the hospital all day. You're welcome any time, and... I'm thinking about you a lot, and everything that happened. I just really want you here with me. Please, whatever's going on with you, just know... I'm feeling cautiously optimistic, too. And I love you."

Kurt clasped the phone to his chest, taking a deep breath. He watched Carole and Finn sitting together, talking and laughing, looking relaxed and full of hope. He thought, with a leaping sense of joy,  _my dad's going to be okay._ In the meantime, he would wait for Noah to be ready to call him back. Maybe he needed to have a little  _faith_  that, even though there was no evidence pointing toward it, things might actually turn out okay.

They were finishing dinner when Kurt received a call from Noah's phone. He pulled it from his pocket and put it to his ear, smiling with relief across the table from Carole. "I almost can't wait to hear this excuse."

"Kurt," said a voice that wasn't Noah's. "This is Mrs. Puckerman."

"Oh." His relief turned to unease. "I - is Noah okay?"

"He was in... an accident," she said. Now Kurt could hear the fear, the distress in her controlled voice. "Something happened. He was drinking."

"Oh, my god." Kurt sat forward, his smile gone. Carole was watching him anxiously. "What happened? Is he hurt?"

"A minor impact, some stitches. He'll be okay. But - Kurt, Noah broke the law by drinking and driving. He took my car, and he destroyed property. He's been remanded to the juvenile detention system." She sighed. "He told me he was on his way to see you when he got the call from his dad, and he didn't want you to think he wasn't -"

"Call from his dad?" Kurt grabbed onto the piece of information that made the least sense. "What call? What happened?"

"I can't get into details." This was sharper, more angry. Kurt had heard that voice from Noah before. "I just wanted you to know not to expect him."

"Well... can I talk to him? How can I find him?" Carole reached out and touched his hand, and Kurt realized he was shredding the edge of the styrofoam tray. He dropped the pieces, snatching his fingers away.

"You can't. I don't know when they'll allow him to have visitors." There was a silence, and she went on, more gently. "Noah's been in trouble with the law before. You seem like a very nice boy, Kurt, and I don't want you to expect - "

He felt a surge of anger. "Expect what?

"Expect him to be something he's not." She cleared her throat. "If you would like, I'll call you when I learn something."

"Yes, please? And..." He wanted to offer help, support, anything, but all he could feel was bitter disappointment. "If you talk to him, please tell him I'm thinking of him." He thought that might be pushing it a little with his mother, so he added, "All of Glee club is."

"Thank you, Kurt. I'm glad to hear your father is doing better."

Kurt stared at his silent phone for several seconds before he registered Carole's question. "What's happening, Kurt? Noah was in an accident?"

"That was his mom. He's... I think he stole something. He was drinking and driving and there was - I don't even know, some kind of accident?" He frowned. "Whatever happened, he's in a juvenile detention facility."

"Oh, Kurt." Carole looked so disappointed. He wanted to tell her,  _no, there's been a mistake, this isn't Noah at all._  He grabbed her hand.

"Don't tell Finn," he said. "Not yet. I need time to figure this out."

She nodded slowly. "Okay, but... I don't want you to get mixed up in anything dangerous, Kurt. Promise me you won't go anywhere without telling me? I'll be upstairs in your dad's room."

"Thank you," he said.

Kurt paced the hall outside the cafeteria, trying to sort through his whirling thoughts.  _The call from his dad. That's first._ He looked up the number to the Dayton Opera House, hoping the box office would be open, and luckily, he got a human being on the phone.

"I'm trying to reach Aaron Puckerman," he said.

The woman's polite tone immediately went cold. "I'm sorry; he's not available."

"Please... I'm a friend of his son's. Noah got a call from his dad today, and there was a car accident... I'm just trying to figure out what happened. Do you know anything?"

She was quiet for a moment. "Aaron didn't show up for work on Tuesday. That's all I can tell you."

"Do you... is there a number where he can be reached?"

"I really can't -"

"I have to talk to him," Kurt begged. He heard her sigh.

"Hang on... I think somebody posted a number on the board in the break room." He waited impatiently until she came back with the number. "Don't tell anybody you got it from me."

Kurt dialed it. When he heard the words, "DayMont Focus Care, how may I direct your call?" he only hesitated for a second before saying as steadily as he could, "I'm calling to speak with Aaron Puckerman."

"Room number, please?"

"I - I'm sorry, I don't have that. Is he all right?"

"You need a room number to reach a patient at this facility."

He licked dry lips. "Can you tell me what happened?"

Her voice was kind. "You'll have to call back."

With shaking fingers, Kurt did a web search for  _daymont focus care dayton oh._  He wasn't really surprised to learn it was a drug rehab facility, but that didn't stop him from calling the theater back and attempting to get the woman in the box office to tell him Aaron Puckerman's room number. When that failed, he settled for searching for information on cocaine overdose and overwhelming himself with frightening details on his way back up to his dad's room.

Burt was awake and peevishly arguing with the nurse about his dinner. He frowned at Kurt as he came in. "Kurt, please explain why dinner without meat isn't really dinner."

"I'm sorry," he said to the nurse, moving in close next to his dad's bed. "He's been single for too long, and he's used to getting his way."

"Ganging up on me, huh?" Burt closed his eyes, resting back against the bed. "I guess it's pointless to resist."

Kurt smiled at the nurse. "I'll take care of it from here." He watched his dad's face, being grateful for all the little ways in which he was responding to the world, now that he was back in it.

Burt didn't open his eyes, but he turned his head toward Kurt. "Where's Noah?"

Kurt felt his face heat. "He's... he ran into some trouble." Then he turned to look anxiously at his dad. "Why did you think he would he be here? Did you - do you remember any of the things that happened, while you were...?"

Burt gave him a faint smile. "Nah. I just figured, it's a time of crisis, the people who love you are gonna rally around you."

By the time Kurt recovered his voice, his dad was asleep again.

* * *

Mr. Schue greeted them the next morning with a grim expression. "Bad news, guys. Puckerman's in juvie."

"It was only a matter of time," said Tina.

Quinn looked appalled. "What did he  _do?"_

"He drove his mom's Volvo through the front of a convenience store and made off with the ATM."

"And when is he getting out?" Rachel demanded, amid astonished laughter.

"Unknown."

Brittany smirked. "He's the dumbest person on this planet... and that's coming from me."

"Come on, guys," Mr. Schue sighed. "Let's have some sympathy?"

"For a guy who puts his needs before those of the team?" Finn was indignant. "We need his voice. And his bad-boy stage presence."

Kurt was glad to be sitting in the back row, where nobody could see him blushing. Finn was getting entirely too honest with his observations about Kurt's feelings about Noah. He was glad he hadn't told Finn about his mother's call. Finn was a terrible liar; he never would have faked realistic surprise.

Kurt had promised Carole he wouldn't drive to Dayton in search of Aaron Puckerman, but it was already clear that was going to be a dead end anyway, at least without his room number. He didn't relish seeing Noah's dad in the throes of rehab, either. He decided to focus his search closer to home.  _Juvie_  only had a few possible meanings in Allen County, Ohio, and Kurt hit home after visiting just three facilities.

They wouldn't let him talk to Noah, but he'd anticipated that. Instead, he left a note, with the promise they'd deliver it to him:

_Take all my loves, my love, yea take them all;_  
 _What hast thou then more than thou hadst before?_  
 _No love, my love, that thou mayst true love call;_  
 _All mine was thine, before thou hadst this more._  
 _Then, if for my love, thou my love receivest,_  
 _I cannot blame thee, for my love thou usest;_  
 _But yet be blam'd, if thou thy self deceivest_  
 _By wilful taste of what thyself refusest._  
 _I do forgive thy robbery, gentle thief,_  
 _Although thou steal thee all my poverty:_  
 _And yet, love knows it is a greater grief_  
 _To bear love's wrong, than hate's known injury._  
 _Lascivious grace, in whom all ill well shows,  
_ _Kill me with spites yet we must not be foes._

Kurt didn't bother to sign the note. He imagined Noah would know the sonnet, and might even appreciate the double meaning of the robbery line. Under the sleeve of his plaid Zara shirt, he wore Noah's bracelet, and found himself touching it several times throughout the morning. He thought it might get him through until he could talk to Noah again and figure out what the hell had happened. That, and his dad's rapid recovery, were helping him maintain his  _cautious optimism_.

Kurt brightened further as Sam strode through the choir room doors and introduced himself as the newest member of Glee.

"I bet he's on team gay," he whispered, nudging Mercedes. It was a reasonable guess, based on what Kurt had seen from Sam over the summer. But regardless of Sam's sexual orientation, he would make a perfect duet partner for Mr. Schue's assignment.

Finn, however, disagreed. "You can't do this to him," he insisted, following Kurt through the cafeteria line. "If he sings with you, you're painting a bullseye on his back."

"Once again, your homophobia seeps to the surface, like the contents of a cracked cesspool." He glowered at the contents of his tray. "You have issues with me being gay; I get it."

"No, I don't," said Finn. "I have issues with the fact that you don't seem to understand that no means no."

Finn's righteous anger, however misplaced, held enough kernels of truth that Kurt sat with his guilt all through lunch. Yes, maybe he had been a little stalkery about Noah once he knew his feelings were reciprocated, and Kurt still clearly remembered Noah's accusations of him being a tease. He hadn't planned to revisit that, but Friday night at  _The Sound of Music_  had come close. He'd pushed Noah away while luring him closer.

"I just want to sing with him," he said, trying not to pout.

"Then you don't care about any of us." Finn glared at him. "If he sings with you, I guarantee within a week he'll take so much crap he'll  _have_  to quit Glee club. Your call, dude."

It was Sam's call, too, of course. Kurt caught him coming out of the boy's bathroom after he'd received his inaugural slushie from Azimio and Karofsky.

"Quinn helped clean me up," Sam said, regarding his stained t-shirt regretfully. "She has really pretty eyes.  _Lor menari."_

Kurt fell into step with him as they walked back to his locker. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that. One of the hazards of being involved in the arts at McKinley, it seems. Was it like that where you used to go to school?"

He shrugged. "I went to an all-boys boarding school, and mostly hung out with the other guys like me - you know, the ones who like comic books and Star Trek? Before this summer, I never even sang in front of anybody except my brother and sister. But I figured, new city, I should meet people, so I did the summer musical. It was really fun."

"I'm glad you decided to join Glee. You have a fantastic voice." Kurt grinned. "When Mr. Schue said  _duet,_  I immediately thought of you and Michael singing  _Agony._  You and I would kill them if we did that."

Sam's eyes lit up. "Totally," he agreed. Then his face fell. "But... today, Finn said all this stuff about, like, walking down the double yellow lines of the highway, and laying low, and... I don't know what to think."

Kurt nodded. "I guess I would understand if you decided you'd rather not sing with a boy. Especially one like me."

"You know I don't have a problem with gay dudes." Sam leaned in more closely, lowering his voice. "To tell you the truth, I think  _Finn_  might have the problem."

"Yeah, I know," Kurt sighed. "We had a confrontation last spring. I thought we got past his little bout of homophobia, but -"

"Uh, that's not exactly what I meant." Sam indicated his admittedly fine abs. "I'm pretty sure he's got a crush on me."

Kurt gaped at Sam for about five seconds before shaking his head to clear it. "Excuse me, did you just say -"

"Well, I caught him staring at me in the shower twice. And he's totally invested in getting me into Glee club. And he  _really_  doesn't want you to sing this duet thingie with me." He frowned. "I'm not upset, but dude, you're gonna have to help me let him down easy. Finn's a nice guy, and I don't want to embarrass him."

"Um - sure." Kurt bit his lip. "Let me... think about it."

"Thanks, man. And let me know if you want to run through  _Agony."_  Sam clapped him on the shoulder and went on down the hall.

Kurt watched him go with disbelief.  _Noah would have something to say about this,_  he thought, and headed for his car.

The detention center was on Wardhill off Spencerville, about ten miles southwest of town. He doubted they would let him see Noah this soon, but when he came to the desk and asked for Noah Puckerman, the woman gave him a funny smile.

"You're Kurt, right?" she said. Kurt nodded. "Noah said you'd be coming by to drop off more homework from his Brit Lit class. You brought him that poem."

"Right," he said. "I - Noah needs help with his reading. I brought the book we're working on, and... I thought, if he had time, I could..." He paused, holding his breath. "If it wouldn't be a problem."

"I'll check with his caseworker." She nodded at the chairs along the wall. "Wait there?"

"Sure," he said, feeling the tension in his stomach. He took  _Shadow Puppets_  out of his bag and sat clutching it in his lap, hoping nobody would think to point out that under no circumstances could this American science fiction novel be homework for British Literature. But after a few minutes, the woman's head emerged from another door, and she beckoned.

"You guys can read in the family meeting room," she said. "Nobody will bother you there, and if you need anything, just ask the security guard."

She escorted him into a large room full of tables, lit by sunny windows along the west wall. Sitting on the far side of one of the tables, dressed in a set of blue coveralls, was Noah. He stood up when he saw Kurt, his face hopeful.

"Hey," he breathed. "I - kind of can't believe you're here."

"I'm sorry to say I alluded to the idea that I was here to tutor you, so we're going to have to do some work; I didn't think they'd let me in otherwise." Kurt adjusted his sleeve so the bracelet on his left wrist was showing, and sat down in the chair across from Noah. Then he saw the bruise on Noah's right cheek, and the line of stitches along his cheekbone, and gasped. "Oh - god, Noah, your face -!"

"It's nothing." Noah clasped his own hands, knotting them together. It was too far across the table for Kurt to reach out and touch him, and he guessed the tables were made that way on purpose. He glanced over at the security guard by the door, who seemed to be ignoring them. "I guess you know something about what happened, huh?"

"Your mom called me." Kurt watched his face harden, and added, "She just wanted me not to worry, since you were supposed to be on your way over to St. Rita's. And she mentioned you'd gotten a call from your dad, but... not what that was about. And that you were drinking, and crashed the car." He raised an eyebrow. "Did you really steal an ATM?"

Noah snorted, rolling his eyes. "Is that what they're saying? You really think I'm strong enough to lift an ATM? And why the fuck would I do that?"

"I have no idea why you'd do any of this," said Kurt. "I was hoping you might want to tell me what really happened."

Noah stared at his hands, rocking back and forth a little. Finally he sighed. "I got your text. It sounded... like you were feeling like, maybe..." He glanced up at Kurt, that hopeful expression back on his face. Kurt just waited, trying not to give him any encouragement. Noah returned his gaze to his hands. "Well, whatever. So I was on my way out the door to see you, and my  _fucking dad_  called, totally high and pissed as all hell. Started going on about my mom, how she's keeping us apart, me and my sister and him. He told me he's on his way up to Lima to get me. Saying he's going to take me to New York, and..." He shook his head, closing his eyes and sighing in frustration. "He gets like this sometimes. It's been... a little while since he fell off the wagon. I thought maybe he was serious this time, that he was going to stay clean."

"I'm sorry," Kurt said, but Noah cut him off with a hand.

"Just - let me tell you the whole thing before you say anything. So I got him to tell me where he was. I took my mom's car, because my truck kind of sucks, and I started driving toward him. I guess I was thinking I would intercept him and talk some kind of sense into him. I kept him on the phone, because he was totally fucked up, I could tell he'd taken way too much. And the whole way, all I could think about was how pissed I was at him, at how fucking selfish he was being. I knew it was going to be the  _same thing_ all over again, him getting in the way of my life  _again,_  just when I thought I might -"

Noah cut himself off. Kurt held his tongue, still waiting. Eventually Noah went on.

"I got him on hold - I didn't tell him I was doing it - and I called the police in Sydney and described his car. Then I just kept talking to him, listening to his fucking  _bullshit,_  and trying to make him think I gave a flying fuck, until the police intercepted him. He totally freaked out, tried to - well, it doesn't matter. They got him, and took him to the hospital. He's in a drug rehab facility somewhere in Dayton."

Noah leaned forward on the table, holding his head in his hands. "Then I went to the nearest 7-11 and used my fake ID to buy a six-pack of beer."

Kurt stared at him. "... Oh."

"Yeah. It's not like I've never done that before, but I guess the clerk picked up on how on edge I was. When he tried to bust me, I took the beer, left the ID and ran. I pulled onto a dark street and drank it all. Then I tried to drive home. I didn't even make it out of the neighborhood. Ran into a fucking yield sign. Cops picked me up, took me to the station. Then my caseworker came and brought me here."

He twisted his lip as he met Kurt's eyes. "So that's what happened. You still want to  _sorry, Noah_  me? Cause I'm thinking I pretty much deserved what I got."

"You're alive," Kurt snapped. "I'm grateful for that, anyway."

Noah's eyes widened briefly, but he didn't look away. "Sure. You say whatever you want to say, Kurt. Trust me, if you're thinking it, I've already thought it."

Kurt considered him, tilting his head. "Your caseworker. Your mom said this wasn't the first time you'd been in trouble with the law. Does that mean you were already on probation?"

"Hey, I'm an asshole, remember?" Noah's voice wasn't angry. He was just resigned.

Kurt opened his mouth to reply to that, but a door opened in the back and a middle-aged African-American woman entered the room.

"Noah," she said. "I thought this was about your homework."

Kurt hoped he didn't look too guilty, but Noah just turned to face her with an easy smile. "Sure. I was just going to do my response sonnet. You ready, Kurt?"

"Ready," Kurt stammered, then fell silent as Noah produced a verse from nowhere:

"O, never say that I was false of heart,  
Though absence seem'd my flame to qualify.  
As easy might I from myself depart  
As from my soul, which in thy breast doth lie:  
That is my home of love: if I have ranged,  
Like him that travels I return again,  
Just to the time, not with the time exchanged,  
So that myself bring water for my stain.  
Never believe, though in my nature reign'd  
All frailties that besiege all kinds of blood,  
That it could so preposterously be stain'd,  
To leave for nothing all thy sum of good..."

He stood, pushing his chair in, and walked slowly backwards to join the woman at the door, speaking the final couplet, his eyes on Kurt:

"For nothing this wide universe I call,  
Save thou, my rose; in it thou art my all."

Kurt felt his heart thundering in his chest, but he couldn't come up with an appropriate response, so he watched Noah disappear through the door. He took a moment to collect himself, then returned to the lobby and bid farewell to the woman at the desk.

"I'll come again tomorrow," he told her. "Noah and I... we have lots of work to do."

* * *

It felt good to make dinner for his dad that night, serving it on a tray, but his dad seemed more interested in asking what was going on at school than in Kurt's culinary efforts. Kurt decided to start with something simple.

"There's a new kid, Sam, in Glee club," he said. "He was in the musical this summer. He and I are singing a duet together."

His dad nodded. "Is that a problem?"

"Finn practically begged me not to." He thought about what Sam had said about Finn, and winced. "He said it'd ruin Sam's reputation."

"So this kid, Sam, does he... you know, does he play for your team?"

"Undetermined."

"Huh." Burt took another bite of soup. "Maybe Finn has a point."

"You're siding with him?" Kurt stared at his dad. "After what he called me in our basement?"

"I was talking to Carole. You weren't totally honest with me. She told me that you had a thing going with Noah, all summer. I mean, I thought you asked me to intervene there, to keep him away from you, but now it sounds like it was more complicated than that." He regarded Kurt steadily. "I could understand why Finn would be uncomfortable if... stuff was going on between you and his best friend. Is that true?"

Kurt stood up and strode into the kitchen, feeling exasperated. "So, a gay guy can't be friends with another guy without there being  _stuff_  going on?"

"Not when you already told me how you feel about him." Burt leaned back against the pillows Kurt had propped behind him on the couch. "Kurt, you've gotta understand, most guys don't know how to deal with their feelings, period, much less trying to come to terms with liking another guy. If you and Noah are trying to figure that out, maybe Finn's having trouble with that."

Kurt thought about Finn's distressed expression in the cafeteria. Had he really been checking Sam out in the shower, or had Sam imagined that? "I don't know what Finn's having trouble with, exactly, but I don't want him telling me what to do just because he's freaking out about... whether or not somebody is gay. You told me yourself, nobody pushes the Hummels around."

Burt sighed. "No one does. I'm not saying that. I'm just saying maybe you're the one pushing Noah around, trying to get him to make decisions he's not ready to make, because you're interested in him."

"Dad," Kurt protested, "you have  _no_ idea what it's like. I am the  _only_  openly gay kid at school - in this town. I mean, why can't I walk hand in hand down the hall with... the person that I like? Why can't I slow dance at my prom?"

His dad gave him a tired nod. "C'mere." Kurt reluctantly returned to the couch and sat beside his dad, setting his jaw. "You think I don't want those things for you? I do. But until you find somebody as open and as brave as you, you're just going to have to get used to going it alone."

Kurt sank back against the couch and rested his head on his dad's shoulder. He thought of the way Noah had looked at him that afternoon in the visiting room. Noah had expected Kurt to be disappointed, to give up on him when he'd told him how he'd messed up, but he'd told him the truth anyway. He hadn't hidden anything from Kurt.

"I think there can be - steps, along the way," he said. "A person can't always be brave all the time, all at once. I think there can be degrees of openness, stages between completely closeted and completely out. Don't you?"

"Sure," said Burt. "And sometimes people might take steps backwards, but that doesn't mean they're not moving forward when you look at their total progress."

Kurt felt the bracelet under his shirt sleeve. "Noah. When you were sick, he was at the hospital with me every day. He - wrote a song for me, and he played it for me on his guitar."

His dad grinned. "No kidding."

"No. And, um. I guess I can tell you this without breaking a confidence, because he kind of did it already, but... he told you he's in love with me. While you were unconscious."

Burt shifted his arm around Kurt's shoulder. "I'm not surprised to hear it, but... I'm a little concerned about what this means for you. You think this is one of those steps, for Noah?"

Kurt sighed. "He has a lot more steps to take, dad. He's in juvie right now."

His dad jerked back. " _What?_  What'd he do?"

Kurt told the whole story, as Noah had described it, and ending with what Mr. Schue had told Glee club about Noah crashing into the convenience store. Burt's eyebrows furrowed lower as the tale unfurled.

"You think Noah's telling you the truth?" he demanded. "Kurt, don't get me wrong, I like Noah, but you've got to look at the possibility he could be making all this up just to get you to -"

"No," Kurt said firmly. "No. I trust him. Dad, he didn't have to see me at all. He's been - honorable. Mostly. I mean, he  _has."_  He blushed, shaking his head. "He's told me what he can offer, what he can handle, at every turn. I think I'm the one who's been leading him on."

Burt frowned. "And now... what? You're telling me you think Noah's ready to be who you need?"

"Maybe not," said Kurt. "But I think, if he's going to take these steps for me, I'm ready to meet him halfway."

* * *

Kurt grabbed Finn's arm on the way out of Glee the next day. "Hey," he said. "I wanted to tell you -"

"Did you see them?" Finn hissed. "Santana and Mercedes singing "River Deep, Mountain High?" They were  _awesome._  There's no way Sam can beat them." He gave a low groan. "What am I going to do? Rachel thinks I'm this honorable guy, because I brought Sam into Glee club. And now he's going to lose, and he'll bail on us, and it'll be all my fault."

"That's what I was going to say, Finn." Kurt patted his arm. "I'm not going to sing with Sam. His reputation is safe."

"What?  _No!"_ Finn grabbed his hand. "Now you  _have_ to sing with him. Kurt, you're the best performer in Glee club. It's the only way he has a chance to beat Mercedes and Santana."

"I don't get it, Finn. First you don't want me to sing with him, and now...?" Kurt gave him a quizzical look. "This is about Sam's reputation... isn't it?"

Finn sighed. "I don't know, Kurt. People are always counting on me to do the right thing , but sometimes I don't know if I know what that  _is."_

"Yeah. Trust me, I totally get that." Kurt hesitated, then added, "Would you eat lunch with me today? There's something I need to tell you about. About Noah."

"Oh. Uh..." Finn looked like he would rather have his legs waxed than say yes, but he finally nodded. "I'll see you then."

Kurt went next to track down Sam. It was unfortunate and somewhat embarrassing that he found him showering before swimming, but Kurt was a man on a mission.

"This can't wait," he said, overriding Sam's discomfort. "I'm setting you free. You can do your duet with someone else in Glee. Someone that the world deems more appropriate."

"Did I do something to offend you?" Sam said, looking wary.

"No! No. It's not you. It's me. You've been honorable, actually. But... I think it might be better if you did your duet with someone like Quinn."

He brightened. "Quinn was good in  _Into the Woods_. You think we'd sound good together?"

"Does it matter? I mean, football player and head cheerleader? It's kind of a hetero dream match, isn't it?"

Sam turned off the water. "Sure. If you care about that sort of thing. You think Quinn does?"

"More than anybody. And you can definitely solidify your reputation by doing a duet with the most popular girl in school."

"Yeah, probably." Sam grinned at Kurt. "But I think it would have been more fun to do  _Agony_  with you."

"Another time," Kurt promised him, returning the grin.

In British Literature, Mr. Tracey was startled to hear that Kurt was meeting with Noah at the juvenile detention center to help him with his schoolwork. "The two of you aren't exactly  _friends,_  are you?" he asked curiously.

"It's complicated," Kurt replied. "I just wanted you to know, in case you wanted me to bring him assignments or something."

At lunch, he sat down next to Finn and took a deep breath. "Noah's not in juvie for knocking over a convenience store."

"I know," Finn said, eating a fry. "I called his mom, and his mom gave me the phone number of the place he's staying. He said you came to visit yesterday."

Kurt recovered his aplomb while unwrapping his sandwich. "Did he tell you about what happened with his dad?"

"Yeah. I knew some of that, already. Like, I remember when his dad first got sick, when we were kids. Only now I know it wasn't that he was sick." Finn looked up at him. "Is... that what you wanted to tell me?"

"Kind of. I mean, not all of it. Finn... my dad said Carole told her about what was going on between me and... my guy, last summer. She said you were uncomfortable with it."

"Maybe a little, yeah." Finn looked away, his cheeks pink. "Look, we don't have to -"

"But you told me, just last week, that you weren't going to keep from expressing yourself just because somebody might slap a label on you." He tilted his head. "Why are you so worried about Sam's reputation if you don't care about your own?"

"I just thought Sam might care," Finn insisted. "He's new at this school; he wouldn't want anybody to think he was... like that."

Kurt nodded slowly. "I think maybe you care more than you're letting on, Finn. It might still be hard for you to deal with having a gay stepbrother. Especially if he were dating somebody else close to you."

Finn went pale. "He - did he ask you -" He paused, then in a hushed whisper, " _Puck?"_

"Noah asked," Kurt confirmed. "I haven't answered. I talked to Dad about it last night. And I'm seriously thinking about it. I thought it was only respectful to bring it up with you, seeing that we'll likely be housemates again at some point, and he's your best friend."

"Dude," said Finn, shaking his head. "I'm not his best friend. Not anymore.  _You_  are."

Kurt opened his mouth to answer, and found his bottom lip trembling. "Oh," he said, putting a hand to his mouth. "Finn."

"I'm not mad," he said quietly. "You guys have a lot more in common than me and Puck ever did. The theater stuff, he always tried to get me to care, but I was like, whatever, dude, let's play football. But I think he, uh. I think he really loves you, and... that's cool with me."

Kurt finally got control over his emotions by taking a bite of sandwich and chewing with determination for several seconds. "You said," he mentioned, when he had swallowed, "that you thought I could do better."

"Yeah." Finn grinned. "I still think that. But who cares what I think? Shouldn't you be paying attention to what you think?"

"Well... I don't know if what I think is very objective."

"I have no idea what that means," said Finn. "But I guess I'm thinking, if you've been talking with him about this since summer and you guys are still, like, hot for each other, it might be worth checking out."

"Thanks, Finn." Kurt finished his sandwich and folded the paper into the pocket of his bag. "By the way, I told Sam to do his duet with Quinn. I think they'd make a cute couple, don't you?"

"Um. Sure, maybe?"

The expression on Finn's face was hard to read, but after what Sam had suggested, the possibilities it brought to mind were  _broader_  than Kurt had imagined previously. Kurt resolved to take him at face value until he had more evidence one way or the other.

* * *

Kurt smiled at the woman behind the desk as he entered the Walter J. Roush detention center. "Back again," he said. "Is Noah available?"

"I'll check." The woman's expression was more suspicious than it had been the day before, but she didn't say anything. Noah was waiting at the same table. He gave Kurt a nod.

"You look cheerful," he commented, slumping back in his chair and crossing his arms. "What's going on?"

Kurt shrugged. "Can't I just be happy to see you?"

"Easier to say when you're on the outside."

He pulled up a chair and sat down across from Noah. "I'm not. I'm here with you, to listen to you talk about how things are on the inside."

Noah flushed, but his scowl disappeared. "Yeah, well, it kind of sucks being here, but it's not much worse than school. And they have satellite TV. I got up at three AM to watch Rolando Villazon and Anna Netrebko do  _La Traviata_  at the Salzburg kicks Joan Sutherland's ass."

Kurt found himself laughing helplessly, shaking his head. "God, Noah."

"What?" he demanded.

Kurt gave the security guard a cursory glance, and lowered his voice. "I just... really want to come over there and kiss you right now."

Noah's flush deepened. He looked momentarily stunned. Then he grinned. "Yeah?"

Kurt grinned back. "Any idea how long you'll be staying?"

"They said at least ten days before my hearing. Then, hopefully, a short sentence, mostly to be served as parole and community service. It's not like I'm a danger to society or something."

He nodded, biting his lip. "Well... that doesn't sound like it'll be too long to wait. I can be patient."

"Well, fuck, Kurt... now I don't know if  _I_  can." Noah watched him with cautious hope on his face. "Nothing's changed. Still. You know that, right?"

"That's not true, Noah." Kurt leaned forward, and Noah mirrored him. Even though they were still too far apart to touch, he could feel the tingle on his skin. "You told my dad how you felt about me. And it wasn't a joke."

Noah shuffled his feet, looking uncertain. "Your dad... uh. He didn't... I mean, he doesn't..."

"No, he didn't remember what you said," said Kurt. "So I told him."

Noah's eyes bulged. "You  _told him?"_

"He already knew. So did Finn."

He choked back a curse. "What the hell?"

"Hey, you told me a lot of big truths yesterday. I think I owe you mine." Kurt regarded him steadily. "Are you ready to hear them?"

"I'm still a little stuck on  _Finn already knew,"_  Noah muttered. He ran a hand over his head. "Fuck me. And -" He glanced sharply at Kurt. "There's more?"

"We can save them for tomorrow, if this is too much."

He looked at Kurt for a long moment, then gave him a smile of grudging respect. "No. I can take it."

Kurt took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'm scared. Not of what people might say if they found out, but what might happen if you decide you can't handle being... in a relationship with me. I'm not always the easiest person to get along with."

"Me, either." Noah shrugged. "I think I know you pretty well by now, Kurt. I'm still not ready to stand up on the stage and announce to the world I like being fucked in the ass, but... damn. I'm  _definitely_ ready to have you  _do_  that to me."

"Oh -" Kurt whispered, as the image rolled over him in excruciating detail. "Noah. I don't know if I'm - I mean, I don't know if  _I'm_  ready for that."

"We're being honest, right? I'm just saying. Six months ago, I never would have even considered it. Now, I guess three people know I like dick." He shrugged again. "Progress."

"Um... four, actually." He shot Noah an apologetic look. "Once my dad knew, there was no way he wasn't going to tell Carole, so..."

"Yeah. Okay." Noah closed his eyes and sighed. "And I guess there are more than four. My dad knows."

"You told your dad?" Kurt said, his eyes widening.

"No, he found out, because he, uh, caught me fooling around with one of the interns at the Opera House."

Kurt laughed. "Are you telling me that back in freshman year, when he mistook me for your boyfriend, there was actually a reason for him to think I might be?"

"Yeah," Noah nodded, "but I totally wasn't ready to talk about it with him then. Or you, or anybody."

Kurt could see Noah closing up as he mentioned his dad, so he tried to redirect the conversation. "And there's Chris, in Michigan. Anybody else I should know about?"

"Nobody you know," said Noah. "I mean, there were some guys I did stuff with at camp, but it was always, like, once; totally casual. And the girls and guys, we played stupid party games, truth or dare, you know?" He gazed across the table at Kurt. "There's a big difference, though, between saying what you  _did,_ and saying what you  _are."_

He nodded soberly. "And... what are you, Noah?"

Kurt watched the terror flicker across his face, then vanish. It was very brief, but it was definitely there, and it made Kurt catch his breath. "Fuck, Kurt, you're really gonna make me say it?"

"I don't date straight boys," he said. "And even though I had a brief and unhappy history developing crushes on them, I'd like to think I don't fall in love with them, either. I'm just curious to know what word you'd use. Not that I really care which one it is, but... let's call it a vested interest in the longevity of our relationship."

Noah knotted his fingers together, grimacing. "Yeah, well. It's just a lot easier to joke about it, to say,  _yeah, I'm a fucking faggot,_  than it is to say I'm... gay."

The word burst against Kurt's consciousness like a tiny firework. He felt it ever so slightly rock his world. "Not bi?" he persisted. "What about -"

"You asked," said Noah tersely. "I answered." He sighed at Kurt's expression. "Yeah, girls are nice and soft and fun to kiss, but trust me, I'm the one living in my fantasies, and I know what gets me off. It ain't girls."

Kurt thought he might want to spend several hours asking Noah details about the contents of those fantasies, but the public visitation room of a juvenile detention facility wasn't really a place for such conversations. He smiled. "Okay. And thank you. That was another difficult truth. I think you're ahead of me."

"Didn't realize this was a contest." Noah smirked. "In that case... okay, here's one. God..." He ducked his eyes, his face already red. "You said you weren't ready to do that with me? To fuck me? Well, you kind of already did."

Kurt wasn't sure he was ready for this  _conversation,_  even, but he resolved to stick with it. "Fingers aren't the same."

"Not fingers." Noah let out a short laugh. "I'm kind of embarrassed how long ago I figured out I liked something in my ass, but I bought... something. On the Internet. To, uh, fuck myself with."

"Oh." Kurt looked intently down at his own hands, intertwined and clutching hard enough to turn his fingers white. He tried not to think about all the times he'd imagined those fingers were Noah's, inside him. "Okay?"

"Yeah. And I just... I guess I was afraid of what that might mean, that I wanted that? So I didn't do anything with it. Apparently having it in my drawer and thinking about it was enough to get me off for a while, but... this summer, when you said you wanted to do that to me, I went and got it, and I -."

"Noah," he whispered, kind of pleading, but he thought if he said it any louder, it would sound like a moan.

"Sorry, babe, I know this must sound like I'm trying to turn this into a conversation about sex, but really, it's just me, telling you all my most embarrassing stuff." He gave Kurt a little half-shrug, leaning his chin into his hand. "The important part was... fuck, Kurt, you made it  _okay,_  that I wanted that. Because you told me you wanted it, and you weren't ashamed, you were just... into it, and it was so fucking hot..." Noah took a sharp breath, and Kurt swallowed hard as he reached down and adjusted himself. "Anyway. You said it was okay, that I wanted it. And then you said, and I quote, 'You can like any kind of sex you want, but it doesn't make you gay. The only thing that makes you gay is being in love with another boy. And I think you qualify.' "

Kurt had to smile, even through his embarrassment. "That memory of yours. I'm never going to be able to argue with you about whether or not something happened. Do you remember numbers, too? Dates?"

"June 22, 2008," said Noah, smiling back. "The day you sang  _Whiter Shade of Pale_  with me. August 16, 2008. The night you made me sleep on your couch after Henry's  _Grease_  cast party _._  October 3, 2008.  _Twelfth Night_  at the Dayton Opera House -"

"Okay, I got it!" said Kurt, laughing. "You know that means I'm going to expect flowers on every anniversary."

"Babe," Noah said softly, his eyes shining. "You can bet you're gonna get a hell of a lot more than flowers."

Kurt didn't think there was any way he would be able to even fake a lesson of Brit Lit after that, so he just offered to read Noah a bit of  _Shadow Puppets._  His voice didn't even tremble too badly, although every time he looked up and saw Noah watching him with that gorgeous little smile, he had to pause and take a steadying breath.

At the end of the chapter, Kurt closed the book. "There was something else that I meant to ask you about yesterday, but I thought we had enough to deal with. It's about Finn."

"What about him? He's not still giving you a hard time, is he?"

"No, he's insisting it's about the new kid in Glee, Sam. Finn made me promise not to do a duet with him. He said it was because he thought it would doom him to a life of unpopularity, but Sam thought it was because Finn had a crush on him."

Noah laughed. "For real?"

"Yes, citing Finn's enthusiasm about getting Sam in Glee, and, um, talking to him while he was in the shower. And I was just wondering... as Finn's oldest friend -" He intentionally didn't say  _best friend._ "-is there any possible way Finn might actually have a crush on a boy?"

"Huh." Noah looked pensive. "Fuck if I know. I mean, Finn does have kind of a thing about touching. It's possible. But that's up to him, right? If he says he's straight, he's straight until he does something different." He shrugged. "So who are you gonna do your duet with, if it's not Sam?"

"I have no idea," Kurt admitted. "We're an odd number, now that Matt's gone. I'd have to ask someone to go again."

"Why bother? Nobody in Glee is as talented as you are. Get Brad to record your voice and sing along with it." He smirked. "Hey, if you want something done right, duet yourself."

"Oh my  _god,_  Noah," Kurt groaned, pushing in his chair, "I said I'm turned on by  _sexual_  puns, not musical ones."

Noah stood, heading toward Kurt, but was forestalled by the heavy-set security guard. "Yeah, well. I guess I'm a little desperate to make an impression."

"You really think you have to try?" Kurt eyed the guard and stayed where he was, feeling every inch of the five feet between them. "You should be glad you're in here, or I'd probably be asking you to sing your duet with me."

Noah's chuckle was warm. "I might have said yes."

The security guard was definitely frowning at him when he left, but Kurt couldn't bring himself to care. He didn't even feel embarrassed that when he got to his car, the first thing he reached for wasn't his keys, but the lotion in his glove box. The idea of Noah, pressing a lubed-up  _something_ inside himself, was too compelling to resist, and he allowed himself the indulgence of imagining him gasping Kurt's name before he came. Kurt suspected he'd be revisiting that fantasy more than once.  _Possibly again today,_  he thought, sprawled in a sticky heap in his driver's seat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to hear Netrebko kick Sutherland's ass, here's an excerpt: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SSPK7Ayuw3s


	16. Fall 2010, part four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To R, who pointed out that Kurt is being pushy and has no right to be annoyed at Noah when he's the one who outed him... I am totally in agreement. Kurt is a self-centered and judgmental kid. He struggles with listening to his ideals, which tell him he should only be with Noah if he's completely out, and his heart (and probably other parts of his body as well). Noah is struggling with anger and fear of rejection. He's more clear now with himself about his sexual identity and what he wants; sadly, that doesn't put him any closer to being able to be that person in public. They both have a lot of growing up to do, but that doesn't make them any less in love with one another. It's been a long time since I was sixteen and in love for the first time, but I remember it very well - and it's not so different from the way it feels to be in love at thirty-eight. I hope you will have patience and empathy for both of them, and for the difficult situation they're in. 
> 
> -amy

Noah looked anxious when Kurt entered the meeting room on Friday, but the security guard was watching them carefully, and he didn't make a move toward him.

"You stood me up yesterday," he said, with a raised eyebrow. "Everything okay?"

"Rachel. She wanted me to sing a duet with her, even though the duet competition was over, so we practiced after school." He smiled. "We did a bluesy version of 'Come On Get Happy.' My idea."

"Judy Garland?" Noah raised an eyebrow. "Way to live up to the stereotype, babe."

Kurt shrugged. "You know, I'm pretty sure Finn must have told her something about... us. She told me she couldn't even imagine how hard it must be to have feelings for someone in high school that I couldn't act on."

"Great," he muttered, cracking his neck. "Berry's as good at keeping secrets as Finn is. The whole fucking school's gonna know before I even get to first base with you."

"I'm sorry. I'll talk to him."

"Hey... no. It's all right." Noah shook his head and smiled. "Let 'em talk. I'm a badass, right? Being in here's giving me all kinds of cred. I think I can handle any rumors about me and you. Especially if they're true."

Kurt felt the smile bloom across his face again, the one that seemed to be following him around wherever he went these days. "Oh, and... I took your advice. About the duet. I sang one with myself."

"Thought you sang it with Berry?"

He fished in his pocket for his phone and slid it across the table to Noah. "That was today. The competition ended yesterday. Just for you, I had Mercedes take a video of me and me."

Noah cupped the phone close to his face and took in the video of Kurt strutting across the stage in his half-tux, half-fringe with increasing excitement. "Fuck," he murmured.

"You know  _Victor Victoria,_ right?" Kurt said, feeling a little giddy.

Noah shot him a smoldering glance that made him laugh breathlessly. "Can I just say you are so much hotter than Julie Andrews?"

"Heresy." He leaned his chin on his stacked hands, watching Noah watching him. "But I'll accept that, coming from somebody who plays for my team."

Noah was absorbed for the rest of the video. The expression on his face when he passed Kurt's phone back to him was one of admiration. "You are really talented, Kurt. Promise me you're gonna stick with theater club on Tuesdays, even if I can't be there."

"I think I can promise that," said Kurt, blushing. "I'm pretty sure my dad's been relieved I'm coming home late every day. We love each other, but him being home with me for hours a day is definitely wearing on both of us. I'll be glad when his doctors say he can go back to work."

Kurt read the next chapter in  _Shadow Puppets_  and said goodbye to Noah, but on the way out the door, the security guard stopped him. He frowned at the book in Kurt's hand. "That book you've been reading."

Kurt's stomach sank.  _Please don't tell me it doesn't count as homework. Please don't keep me from seeing him. Not now._ "Yes?" he asked, trying to sound cool.

"What's the name of it? I've been sitting there listening to you read the last three days, and I think my niece would love it."

Kurt held back a relieved laugh. "Oh? Well - it's the third in a series. She should really read  _Ender's Game_ first. Let me write that down... or, better yet, I can bring you my copy tomorrow."

"That'd be great." The man held out a thick dark hand. "Jashawn."

"Kurt." He shook it, smiling. "I'll tell you, I thought you were going to bust us for not doing homework reading. That book's kind of just for fun."

"You gonna keep reading it out loud like that?" Jashawn grinned at Kurt as he nodded. "Then I ain't gonna bust you for nothing till I get to hear the way it comes out."

* * *

Kurt was waiting across the table before Noah even arrived on Monday afternoon. "I might not be able to do theater club for a couple weeks," he said excitedly. "Mr. Schue's decided to do Rocky Horror as the school musical. I get to be Riff-Raff. Can you believe it?"

"Edgy," Noah approved. "And kind of awesome. I wouldn't have expected it of Schue. What, is he having a midlife crisis or something?"

"Your guess is as good as mine." Kurt opened his sketchbook and showed Noah the drawings he'd done in study hall that afternoon. "I have sourcebooks to all the versions of the stage production and the shadow cast. Mr. Schue even said we have a budget to work with, because we're going to sell tickets to pay for it. This is going to be epic."

Noah's smile was a little wry. "This is what you've been waiting for: a chance to be on stage. And you're telling me you want to play dress-up with the stage crew? What's that all about?"

"I don't know," Kurt said. "I just know I don't care nearly as much about being in the spotlight if I don't look good doing it. Choreographing that number from  _Victor Victoria_  and making my costume, it was like - a revelation." He smiled. "I really love being on stage, too, don't get me wrong. But it's not like this particular show's about the script, anyway, is it? It's about the pageant."

By the time Kurt had finished with the chapter in  _Shadow Puppets,_  Noah was deep in contemplation. His smile had vanished, and he barely responded to Kurt's comments about the developments in the plot. Kurt wished he could go around the table and comfort him, but as it was, all he could do was give him a sympathetic look.

"It's just one show," he said. "And we - we can still do the spring show with theater club, right?"

"Yeah," Noah agreed. "Definitely. But you tell Jenna I'm not doing another Ibsen play, okay? Talk about major downer."

But Kurt wasn't thinking about the spring show. He couldn't stop scribbling costume ideas all through dinner with Finn and Carole. His dad looked bemused when Kurt showed them the sketches for the dinner party scene.

"Is that a  _brassiere?"_ said Burt, frowning at the sketch. "Forgive me my ignorance here, Kurt, but this is a little more risqué than the average high school musical. Isn't Schuester setting the bar a little high? And the hemlines?"

"Yeah, Rachel told me I have to do most of the second half of the show in my underwear," said Finn uneasily. "I don't know if I'm really down with showing the whole school my junk."

"It'll be stage underwear, Finn," Kurt assured him. "Double layer over a bikini brief. You could wear a cup if you're worried. Anyway, you look fine."

"Yeah, that's not what Santana says," he muttered. "She's always talking about my... well, you know." He glanced at his mom and dropped his voice to a whisper. "My  _nipples."_

"Sam's going to do his part of the show in his underwear too." Kurt watched Finn frowning. "What? You can't object to not looking good enough  _and_  looking too good."

"I didn't say anything about Sam." Finn glared at him. "What do you care? You just have to wear creepy makeup and a bald-headed wig."

"Yes, and I get to disappear in a spaceship at the end, too. It'd be a perfect part if I didn't have to play the whole thing opposite Santana and Quinn. Magenta #1 and Magenta #2." He turned to Carole, who was eating her dinner in thoughtful silence. "Mike Chang's the one who's really pushing the envelope here. He'll do most of the show in fishnets and four-inch heels."

"Yeah, I'm surprised you didn't want that part, Kurt." Finn stabbed his chicken angrily. "I thought after that Jazz Hot number you made it pretty clear you embrace your feminine side."

Burt looked a little put out by Finn's comment, but Kurt just smiled. "Actually, I thought I'd been embracing my masculine side pretty thoroughly recently. There's a reason I like boys, Finn. I'm not looking for a boy who looks like a girl."

"Yeah, I know  _exactly_  what kind of guy you want to  _embrace."_

"Finn!" said Carole, while Burt let his fork clatter noisily to his plate, but Finn just pushed his chair out and retreated downstairs, scowling. Carole turned to Kurt, looking apologetic. "I'm sorry, Kurt; I don't know what's gotten into him lately."

"Hey, why don't I talk to him?" Burt offered, wiping his mouth with his napkin. But Kurt shook his head.

"This is between me and Finn. And we'd better get everything out into the open before Noah comes home from serving his sentence." He slipped away from the table and down the stairs to his room.

Since Finn had moved back to his own house, Kurt had moved a few things around in the room he'd designed for the two of them, but there were still two single beds. Finn was slumped at the foot of one of them, staring at the floor. Kurt seated himself on the rug in front of him.

"I'm sorry, dude," Finn said quietly. "That was out of line."

Kurt nodded acceptance of the apology. "I'm not exactly sure what's making you uncomfortable. Any chance you could tell me?"

Finn shrugged uneasily. "I... don't know. I just think I'm gonna get laughed at if I go up on stage like that."

"Because you don't look like Sam or Mike? Finn, although I don't spend a lot of time imagining you in your underwear, I'm betting Rachel thinks you look fantastic in them." He watched Finn nod. "So what's the problem? What do you care what the rest of the school thinks?"

"Not the rest of the school," Finn whispered. "Just one person."

Kurt's mind raced. "Is it... um. Does Rachel know?"

Finn shook his head. "No. I'm not gonna tell her. Nothing's going to happen anyway. It's stupid." He ran his hands through his hair and let out a groan. "I can't believe I agreed to do this part. I think I'm going to tell Mr. Schue I can't do it."

"Come on, Finn. It's  _theater."_  Kurt put a hand on Finn's foot. "It's not you up there on stage; it's Brad Majors, who gets trapped in this nightmarish, bizarre mansion and forced to confront his sexuality. He never quite learns to let go of his insecurities, but... I'd say this is a perfect part for  _you_  to work out yours."

He sighed. "I guess. Maybe it'll be okay." He eyed Kurt. "What'd Puck say when you told him about the show?"

"He was disappointed, of course, that he doesn't get to participate. But I think he's glad for us. I'm in this theater club with him at OSU; he's been bugging me to join since last year, so hopefully we'll get to do a show in the spring."

"When's his court date? November 6?" Kurt nodded, and Finn smiled weakly. "He'll be out soon, then. I mean - not  _out,_ but... you know." Then he paused. "He's not, is he?"

"More words, Finn. You're not making sense."

He gave Kurt a glance of desperation. "Puck's not  _coming out_ , right? Even if you guys are, like, together?"

Kurt was wondering the same thing. Some days, Noah seemed perfectly willing to accept the idea of other people knowing about their feelings for one another, but other days he would barely smile at Kurt in front of Jashawn the security guard (who seemed so far neutral on his and Kurt's relationship, but had become a dedicated fan of the Ender series). "So far, he's keeping it quiet, and you should be, too." He frowned at Finn. "I can't believe you told Rachel."

"Told Rachel what?"

He paused. "On Friday, she said all this stuff to me about how bad she felt that I was alone, and I couldn't express my feelings for the person I loved at school. I assumed she knew about Noah."

"Dude. I wouldn't say anything." Finn looked annoyed, and more than a little offended. Kurt backpedaled, squeezing Finn's ankle.

"Okay, I'm sorry I jumped to conclusions. But it did seem like kind of a coincidence. I guess I'll have to ask her for clarification. If you ever brought her over for dinner or anything, I could talk to her then. Seriously, Finn, we need to work on your boyfriend skills. It's a good thing Rachel loves you so much."

He smiled. "Yeah, I really love her, too. I feel lucky to have her."

Evening at the Hummel household was a much quieter time now that Noah wasn't in a position to receive calls after dinner. Kurt still saw him nearly every day, but it wasn't quite the same. Even after the heated phone calls of the summer had ceased, it was the reading every night Kurt missed the most.

After Carole and Finn had left for the night, Kurt made sure his dad took his medication and got to bed. Then he went downstairs and read to himself. Reading in his own head just didn't bring the same pleasure it used to. He didn't have anybody to share the characters with; there was no one to perform for.

_Rachel was right,_  he thought, curled around his book, waiting to get sleepy.  _I am lonely. But it's not because I don't have anyone who understands. It's because the boy who does is sleeping in a cell twenty miles across town, and I miss hearing him tell me good night._

"Sleep well, Noah," he whispered into the dark.

* * *

Every day, Kurt brought news of the show to the detention center for Noah to grin at or complain about. Sometimes it was the staging, or the way the cast handled the pacing of a particular section of script, or a tidbit of the offstage drama brewing between Mr. Schue and Coach Sylvester. Noah just rolled his eyes at Dr. Carl Howell's participation, but when Schue cut Sam's part and recast himself as the Creature, he said that was going too far.

"I don't know what the hell Mr. Schue's doing, but he needs to get over Ms. P," he advised. "She's  _married._  She kind of made her choice. _"_

Kurt wasn't feeling too charitable about Ms. Pillsbury either, not since Mr. Schue decided she would be taking over in charge of costumes. "You don't think he expects her to change her mind? Or - maybe they're having an affair?" He put a hand to his mouth. "Scandalous."

Noah was dismissive. "I don't think Ms. P would sleep around. She's cool. She helped a lot when I got in trouble the first time. Ms. Martin, my parole officer, she's kind of strict, but her and Ms. P together play a really good game of good cop, bad cop."

Kurt leaned forward tentatively; they had talked about all sorts of embarrassing things before, personal and otherwise, but this was more personal than most. "What -  _did_  you do, that first time?"

Noah didn't look upset by the question, but he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Um. I bought some pot. A shitload of pot, really. I guess we weren't really talking much, freshman year, but... remember those cupcakes I made for Glee? It's a hell of a lot easier to get people to eat more baked goods when you give them a little chemical incentive."

Kurt boggled at him. "You didn't."

"Yeah. And they were good, yo."

"Noah, putting  _illegal drugs_  in food and giving it to  _high school students?"_  he hissed. "Not only did you expect to get away with it, but you're telling me you didn't think there was anything wrong with what you did?"

Noah grimaced. "I don't mess with the hard drugs. I mean, I know my dad's history, and I'm not gonna make the same mistakes, right? But... I guess alcohol's a drug. So it looks like he's the tree right  _here,_  and I'm the fucking apple right  _here,_  huh?"

Kurt let out a long sigh. "I can't pretend I feel okay with what you did. I didn't ever plan to try any drugs, but after what you told me about your dad, I'm even less likely to want to. And I learned my lesson when April Rhodes shared her chablis with me - I'll pass on alcohol, too, at least until I'm twenty-one." He gazed fixedly at Noah until he looked away. "But... I'm not interested in trying to reform you, or to make you into something you're not. I always told you I'd take you just the way you are."

Noah could have rolled his eyes, or made some smartass comment, but he just nodded, his eyes on the table. "Thanks, Kurt. That means a lot to me."

After Kurt read, he slid the bookmark back inside - there were only a few chapters remaining; at this pace they'd be on to the next book before Noah's hearing - and turned toward Jashawn the security guard He looked startled to be acknowledged, but he and Kurt had spoken several times now, and Kurt didn't think what he was about to ask was an unreasonable request.

"Is it okay if I hug him before I go?"

Noah looked even more surprised than Jashawn. The security guard frowned and shook his head. "The rules say no contact."

"Come on. You can check my pockets; I don't have anything to give him." Kurt held up his hands and gave him a winning smile. "Really, I'm harmless."

Jashawn hesitated, but he approached Kurt and patted him down. Finally he shrugged, and gestured to Noah. "Be my guest. I'll, uh, hold onto your book." He flipped open to the place where Kurt had stopped and began reading, pointedly ignoring the two boys.

Kurt walked slowly around the table to stand before Noah, who had pushed his chair out and looked like he might be ready to bolt. Kurt held out his hand, waiting for Noah to take it, and gave it a squeeze before pulling Noah into an embrace.

It wasn't the first time or even the tenth that they'd done this, but Kurt could sense the difference from the moment Noah's arms slid around him. He let out a silent sigh, feeling the tension drain out of him, and pressed his fingertips into Noah's shoulders.

"God, Kurt," Noah whispered. "You feel so fucking good."

"Yeah," Kurt whispered back. "You, too."

Noah pulled back reluctantly, their foreheads resting together. Kurt could see the tears glistening in Noah's eyes, threatening to fall.

"I  _hate_  it in here," he said.

Kurt nodded. "I know."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you anything about it, I didn't want you to think I was a wuss, but -"

He brushed a hand gently over Noah's cheek, running his thumb along Noah's jaw to rest on his bottom lip. "You didn't have to say anything. I knew. It won't be too much longer, now, and then... I'll be waiting for you."

Noah's lips turned toward Kurt's hand, and when he brushed them against the webbing between Kurt's thumb and forefinger, it was all Kurt could do not to grab Noah's face in both hands and kiss him right there. But he steeled himself.  _Wait. It's not the right place. You'll know it when it happens._

Jashawn cleared his throat, and Kurt finally stepped back with an apologetic smile. "Tomorrow," he said, picking up his bag and nodding gratefully at Jashawn as he reclaimed his book. "I'll talk to you then, Noah."

* * *

When Kurt returned the next day, the receptionist had upsetting news.

"Noah's not allowed to see any visitors today," she told Kurt. "He broke some regulations, and they're confining him to his room."

"Oh, no," said Kurt. He thought nervously of Jashawn allowing them to bend the rules the day before. "What did he do?"

"I think he got into a fight." The receptionist looked unaffected by this news. "You can leave him a note, but you won't be allowed to see him until Thursday."

Kurt took out his notebook and wrote a brief message:

_They won't let me see you. I hope everything is okay. Whatever happened, I'm with you. I'll be back Thursday. I'm holding tight, and I love you._

He decided not to try to explain about Mr. Schue cancelling  _Rocky Horror_  in the note, figuring he'd see Noah soon enough and could explain it to him then.

But Thursday, the receptionist shook her head again.

"He's refusing to see you. I'm sorry, Kurt. We can't make him take visitors, even if they're for school."

Kurt clutched at the dirty counter helplessly. "Can you at least tell me if his court date is still set for tomorrow?"

"I can check on that for you. Hang on." She disappeared around the corner, and returned a minute later, nodding. "Yes, it's scheduled for 10:30 AM. You can call and talk to Deborah Martin tomorrow; she might be able to give you more details." She gave him a sympathetic look. "Want to leave him another note?"

Kurt shook his head. He walked back to his car, running his thumb over the smooth surface of the bracelet, wishing he could hold Noah's hand, wishing he could know for sure that everything was okay.

He called Ms. Martin the next day at lunch. She knew right away who he was. "Kurt," she said. "You've been reading to Noah after school."

"I'm calling to ask about the hearing," he said, cupping the phone to his ear. "Did everything go all right? When will he be released?"

"His parole was granted. He'll be back at school on Monday, pending community service. It'll take him some time to adjust to being back among his peers."

He didn't even bother to disguise his smile. "Is - can he go home today?"

"There's some paperwork for him to finish up, but that will be up to his mother. You might try calling him this evening or tomorrow."

"Thank you so much. Is he feeling any better? He's been refusing visitors."

Kurt didn't even hear Ms. Martin's response; he jerked back as his phone was knocked to the ground. The case absorbed the blow, but he watched it skitter across the floor, his heart thumping loud. He looked up into Karofsky's angry face.

"Talking to your boyfriend, Hummel?" Dave sneered. His foot shot out, and Kurt's phone arced across the hallway to disappear under the garbage can in the corner. By the time he recovered it, Ms. Martin had hung up. But even Karofsky's attacks weren't going to dull his mood today.

The first person he saw in the hallway was Quinn. They'd largely left their friendship behind after this summer had ended, but Kurt knew she would at least understand his excitement.

"Noah's coming home this weekend," he said, grasping her arm. She smiled.

"I wasn't sure you cared. You two haven't exactly been close, after what happened in New York."

Kurt shook his head, rounding the corner with her toward AP American History. "We weren't. But he was there for me when my dad was sick, and I've been visiting him while he's been in juvie, and... I don't know."

"Oh, I  _know,"_  Quinn said, nodding. "You're completely gone, Kurt. It's written all over your face. Just... be careful. Puck's not the most stable person. No matter what you think you're going to get out of this relationship, take care of yourself. I don't want to see you get hurt."

Kurt was touched by Quinn's concern, but he felt a little beyond  _careful_  at the moment. Before Glee, he tried calling Noah's house. When there was no answer, he called Noah's phone to leave a message.

"I hear you broke out of the big house," said Kurt. "I'd love to take you out for ice cream or something. Whatever you want. Within reason. And the law. Anyway... call me, okay?"

Kurt waited all through dinner, his phone beside him on the table, for Noah to return his call, but when they'd finished rinsing the dishes, his phone remained silent. Carole and his father exchanged uneasy looks.

"He's probably tired," Carole said. "Try him tomorrow at his house."

But the morning rolled around and still, no Noah. When Kurt tried his house number, Sarah answered.

"Hi there," he said, pacing the room. He had no idea what to do with all this nervous energy. "Is your brother home?"

"He's in our room," she said. "He won't let me in."

He bit his lip. "Can I talk to your mom?"

A moment later, he heard Mrs. Puckerman say, "Kurt, I'm sorry, but he doesn't want to talk to you."

"Can you tell me what's going on? I don't understand, really, I was visiting him every day, and he seemed glad enough to talk to me then. What changed?"

There was a silence. Then she sighed. "He won't tell me, either. His case worker said it was common for boys to need time to readjust to being back in regular society, even after a brief stay like Noah's. I... I don't know what's going on."

Kurt felt a hand on his shoulder, and he looked up to see his dad standing beside him. He leaned against him, accepting his support. "Well, can you please let him know I'll be around all day? I could come over if -"

"He'll be fine," she said, cutting him off. "I'll tell him, Kurt. Thank you for calling." Then the line went silent. He shook his head.

"What did she say?" Burt asked softly.

" _Nothing,"_  Kurt replied, and gave a bitter laugh. "I knew she didn't much like me, but this...  _this_  is beyond the pale."

But even Mrs. Puckerman's voice had been uncertain. Whatever was going on with Noah, either she really didn't know, or...

_Or it's something bad enough that she doesn't want to tell me,_  he thought. All the worst possible scenarios rushed through his head, one at a time, beginning with Noah's father's death. He went to bed early and slept fitfully, waking several times in the middle of the night from shadowy nightmares.

After breakfast on Saturday, Kurt had had enough. He got in his car and drove over to the Puckerman house, parking on the street and making his way around the yard to the side door. When he peered in the window, he couldn't spot any people. The piles of stuff in the family room seemed to have been rearranged, not diminished. He knocked quietly on the door, then more firmly, but there was no answer.

Kurt tried the door, feeling only a little uneasy when it opened. He poked his head into the house. It still smelled faintly of mold.

"Hello?" he called.

Seconds later, Sarah appeared around the corner, looking surprised. "Hi."

"Is your mother home?" asked Kurt. Sarah shook her head.

"I'm watching cartoons in the bedroom," she said.

He closed the door carefully behind him, trying not to disrupt the precarious piles on the counter. "Is Noah with you?" She nodded. "Can I... come in and talk to him?"

"Did you bring cupcakes?" she asked hopefully. He shook his head, resolving to do just that next time. She gave him a mock sad face.

"Did you eat breakfast?" he asked, picking his way through the family room behind her.

"Noah made me toaster waffles." She plunged through the door and leapt onto the bed closest to the television. Kurt paused in the doorway, but he caught Noah's desperate expression before his gaze returned to the screen, scowling.

"You didn't return my calls," said Kurt.

"Give the man a fucking trophy," Noah muttered. "Nobody invited you over."

"I was worried about you. I heard you were in a fight, and that's the last I -"

" _Nobody_  invited you  _over_ ," Noah repeated, louder this time. He paused long enough to shoot Kurt a furious glare. "Can't you take a hint? Get out of here."

Kurt took an uncertain step back. "What's going on?"

"Maybe you want to know, maybe you don't. Either way, you're gonna have to deal with disappointment. Now  _get... the fuck... out of my house."_

Sarah looked worried, but she didn't say anything, and eventually Kurt turned around and left. He sat in his car for several minutes, holding his phone, wondering who he could possibly call who would help him make sense of this.

_Nobody,_  he finally decided.  _Nobody's going to know what to do, because nobody knows Noah like I do. And he's shut himself off from me, too._

* * *

Monday morning Kurt walked into British Literature to see Noah sitting in the back row. He was smiling, which was good, but he was also flirting with two Cheerios, which wasn't. But Kurt knew better than to try to draw him out in the middle of class.

"Glad to see you've returned, Noah," said Mr. Tracey.

"Back to the land of the lame, Mr. T," Noah replied with a smart-ass salute. He spent the rest of the hour making spitballs and trying to get both of the Cheerios to feel his biceps.

When Kurt arrived in Glee following a locker-slam by Dave Karofsky, Noah was there, too, his long limbs stretched out. He acknowledged Mr. Schue's welcome back and the class' resulting round of applause.

"Puck, I hope your time in juvie has taught you a lesson or two about right and wrong," said Mr. Schue. Noah smirked.

"Are you kidding? I ruled that place. All I did was crack skulls and lift weights all day."

"Oh, what a catch," muttered Quinn. "I can't believe I ever let you go."

Even Mr. Schue's announcement about their competition for sectionals - the Dalton Academy Warblers and the Hipsters from the Warren Township Continuing Education Program - didn't brighten Kurt's mood. Noah seemed set on trying to prove his bad-assness. When the club split up into boys vs. girls, Kurt tried to sneak over to the girls' team, but Mr. Schue caught him before he could even sit down.

The boys' ideas mainly consisted of combinations of every rock song from the 1970s until present day. Kurt was absolutely not interested in helping to choreograph another hair band revival. Walking out of Glee seemed like a reprieve - until Karofsky caught him in the hallway again.

Kurt watched Noah disappear down the hall, pushing Artie's wheelchair, and wheeled on Karofsky, his temper frayed to breaking. "What is your problem?" he shouted.

Dave turned, walking toward him. "You talking back to me?"

Kurt couldn't even manage an adequate comeback to Karofsky's inane threats; all he could see was Noah's angry face in his mind, telling him to  _get out of his house._  He was still leaning against his locker when Mr. Schue came around the corner and saw him, face white. He guided Kurt back to his office without another word.

"Is there anything that I can do?" Mr. Schue asked quietly, handing Kurt a cup of water.

Kurt took it, pondering his options. He could tell Mr. Schue about Noah's change in mood, but that would mean revealing their friendship-maybe-more, and Kurt wasn't willing to out Noah again without his permission. Finally he sighed. "No. This is my hill to climb alone."

"Can I be honest?" Mr. Schue gave him a concerned look. "I think it's getting to you. Usually this stuff rolls off your back, but lately you've been belligerent, angry, pushing people away."

"Can I be honest with you?" said Kurt. "You, like everyone else at this school, is too quick to let homophobia slide. And your lesson plans are boring and repetitive. Boys vs. girls?" He rolled his eyes. "That doesn't challenge any of us."

"You mean because I didn't let you join the girls like you wanted."

Kurt sighed as he picked up his messenger bag. "To answer your question, yes, I've been unhappy. Being the only out gay kid at this school gets me down. But most of all... I'm not challenged in the least here."

Mr. Schue seemed to take his words to heart, because the next day in Glee, he instructed the boys' team to choose a song traditionally sung by girls. Kurt came forward with his ideas about Diana Ross, but none of the other boys were willing to listen, not even Finn. Noah openly sneered at his idea.

"Why don't you make yourself useful and go put some rat poison in the old folks' Jell-O," he said. "Or visit the Garglers."

"The Warblers," Kurt corrected, setting his jaw.

"Whatever. See what they're up to." He cocked his head. "You'd blend right in."

Kurt stared back at his sneering face, trying not to let him see the hurt. "Fine," he snapped. He took his design board and headed for his car, mapping a route to Dalton Academy on his phone.  _It can't be any more depressing than watching our own Glee club chart its own course to disaster._


	17. Fall 2010, part five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To Y, I'm just grinning and snickering at your rant about Kurt's boundary issues about Noah. He's getting a little desperate, poor guy; Rachel nailed it when she said he was lonely. But consider Noah had given him several green lights over the previous few days. It might have appeared to Kurt to be a reasonably calculated risk. I'm touched by the empathy everyone is showing for Noah - I'm accustomed to my readers yelling at me for treating Kurt badly, so it's a refreshing change of pace. 
> 
> Sorry if recent parts of the story seemed sluggish, but I'm sticking with canon. I hope this chapter makes up for it. Spoilers through 2.07 The Substitute, with some heavy quoting of 2.06 Never Been Kissed. Spoilers, as well, for the plot of the musical RENT, and warnings for sexual bullying, two kisses, frottage and happy conclusions. 
> 
> I will likely continue the story in a sequel. 
> 
> Enjoy! 
> 
> -amy

Kurt felt grateful for an excuse to call Mercedes. It had been so long since he'd had something he could talk to her about that meant anything, but he thought she might understand a little bit about the spark that had been kindled inside him when he'd stood there in the senior commons at Dalton and heard the Warblers sing.

"They were all, like,  _thrilled_  to be watching the Glee club perform," he said, stretching out on his back on his bed. "Nobody was embarrassed, not even a little. And the lead singer, Blaine, he was having eye sex with the whole audience, and nobody was doing anything except  _smiling._ "

"I think he was just having eye sex with you, Kurt," she said, grinning. "Seriously, I think it's great. But you could have gotten in a lot of trouble if they hadn't been so nice about you spying on them."

Kurt wasn't exactly sure how to explain why he'd felt like he had to go to Dalton. Noah had practically dared him to do it, which might not have been a reason all by itself. But Kurt imagined walking up to Noah the next day and telling him,  _I saw the Warblers, and they're not only fantastic, everybody admires them - and their lead singer is really, really gay, so there._

"Blaine said he would come to McKinley and help me confront Karofsky," he said. Even that wasn't the complete truth, because what Blaine had really said was that Kurt should think about transferring to Dalton. Which was a crazy, stupid idea, because he could never afford it, and there wasn't any way that he could  _really_  imagine doing things so differently from the way he was already doing them. He could never  _move to Westerville._  He could never  _leave his dad._

"That's a great idea," Mercedes said. She sounded so understanding. He wondered what she would sound like if he said to her,  _I've been talking to Noah in juvie every day for the past three weeks, and last week I almost kissed him._ He didn't think understanding would be the word for it. She might very well try to talk some sense into him.  _Which would be so hypocritical of her, because she's the one who dated him._ And now Kurt was getting angry at the imaginary Mercedes in his head. He sighed.

"You think I should call Blaine?" he asked. "I have no idea what would happen, but... just being there made me feel more courageous. It would be great to have him standing with me when I confronted Karofsky."

"Definitely," she agreed. "Karofsky's an ass. He deserves a little ganging-up."

Kurt sorted through the thoughts in his head and chose one that seemed safer than most. "Can you believe Noah's attitude today? I think being in juvie did something to him."

She snorted. "Are you kidding? Puck has always been like that. Maybe you're just noticing now because he's been gone. He's no better than Karofsky, Kurt."

"That's not true," he told her, stung. "He doesn't bully kids anymore. Not like he used to."

"No, not like that. I'm just saying, he's kind of a jerk. When he came into Glee today with Artie and asked Brittany and Santana out on a date, they -"

"Wait, what? He asked them out on a date?" Kurt thought about the way Noah had been so openly flirting with the Cheerios in Brit Lit. He sighed. It just didn't make any  _sense._

Mercedes nodded. "All he did was treat them like garbage and they were fawning all over him. I never would have expected that to work."

Kurt said nothing. Suddenly he felt like crying. "I should get going," he told her at last.

"Sure. Let me know if Blaine decides to come visit. I'd love to get a look at your boy."

Kurt thought it might have been a little stalkery of him to track down a picture of Blaine Anderson on the Internet and print it out to hang in his locker, but if he couldn't stalk a cute gay boy from a rival glee club, who could he stalk? Anyway, it made him feel a little better to have someone besides Noah to pay attention to.

He send Blaine a text before bed, inviting him to McKinley "whenever he could find time." Blaine's response made him smile:  _I suspect I could be excused from classes for a good cause._

"Was Noah at school today?" his dad asked when he came upstairs to tell him goodnight.

"He was," said Kurt. "And he treated me like garbage, and he flirted with girls all day. Apparently he's going out on a date with Santana tomorrow night."

"Ouch." Burt frowned. "Do you have any idea why he's acting this way?"

"Maybe. He won't tell me, so I'm guessing something happened in juvie that embarrassed him. I already tried going over to his house, and he just told me to leave." He staunchly did not cry. "And at school... Dave Karofsky was bothering me again, and Noah... he ignored it. Ignored me."

Burt's mouth tightened. "Yeah. Well, I can tell you, when boys act like jerks and push people away, it's usually because they're scared."

"I know, Dad. I guess I shouldn't be surprised by now, but..." He closed his eyes, tight, tighter. "I just thought, maybe, this time it would be different."

But it wasn't any different. Kurt waited until he was in bed, in the dark, with  _Shadow Puppets_  safely stashed in his desk drawer again, before he let his bitter tears overwhelm him, and mourn the loss of something he'd almost had.

* * *

Kurt looked up from his chemistry homework when his phone rang. It was an unfamiliar number, which usually was enough for him not to bother answering it, but he'd been on edge all day trying to avoid both Noah and Karofsky. Sometimes  _not_ knowing was worse than knowing. He picked it up. "Hello?"

"Uh, Kurt? It's Artie. I'm calling for a favor."

He sat up. "What do you need?"

"I was double-dating tonight with Puck, and he ditched me at Breadsticks and left with Britt and Santana. I'm too embarrassed to call my dad to pick me up. I knew you had a big car. and I was hoping... do you think you could come get me?"

"Sure, of course," he said, slipping his feet into his shoes. "I'll be there in ten minutes."

Artie was waiting for him in the lobby at Breadsticks. He gave Kurt a red-faced smile.

"Thanks for saving my sorry behind. He tried to leave without paying, and I just couldn't do it, and he said... well, it doesn't matter. I should know better than to trust Puck."

Kurt took a firm grasp on the handles of Artie's wheelchair and pushed him toward his car. "I know exactly what you mean."

* * *

_He could feel Noah's hands under his shirt, skating along his ribs, inspiring sensations through his body. He tipped his head back further to allow Noah's mouth access to his neck, his throat. "Yes," he sighed, "just like that..."_

_Noah's hips wedged against his, pressing him against the bed and making him groan, but his lips were gentle, feather-light and maddening. "I'm gonna take my time, babe."_

" _Please, Noah," he begged, "I've been waiting for so long."_

_Noah's hand carded through his hair. He smiled down at him. "I know what you want."_

_He tensed as Noah's other hand moved down along his abdomen and into the waistband of his pants, unbuttoning and unzipping with incredible deftness. "God, yes..."_

" _Kurt..." whispered Noah, into the curve of his neck, "Kurt... Kurt..."_

"... Kurt!" called his dad from the top of the stairs. Kurt sat up suddenly, jerking his own hand out of his pajama pants. "Are you awake? You're going to be late."

"Yeah, Dad, I'm... um. I'm awake." He gripped the edges of his mattress, shaking off the dream, cursing his dad's poor timing.  _Just a few more minutes, and he would have..._

"Come on, Kurt, Up and at 'em."

Kurt shed his pajamas and dressed quickly, ignoring his arousal, and hurried through breakfast. The dream stayed with him all morning, long after his erection had subsided. More than once he found himself distracted by vivid thoughts of Noah's hands, his voice, his body thrusting against him -

And suddenly, there he was, taking a seat next to Kurt in Glee as the girls arranged the props for their mashup. Noah gave Kurt a cocky smile, and before he thought about what he was doing, Kurt smiled back.

"I hear you gave Artie a ride home last night," he said.

They were the first words Noah had said to him in over a week that were remotely kind. Juxtaposed with the sound of Noah moaning his name in his dream that morning, he could barely choke out a reply that made sense. But then the girls started their mashup, and Kurt was saved from having to respond. It was easy to be distracted by the lights and hairography of their number. Michael, visiting from band, dressed in leather and playing his electric guitar, didn't hurt either.

Kurt glanced over at Noah, caught in a moment of easy laughter. His eyes sparkled with excitement, and Kurt felt another devastating shiver as he pictured how much more stunning he'd look if he were naked... his phone buzzed.

It was from Blaine.  _Courage,_  was all it said, and Kurt relaxed, smiling.

He received another identical text as he was walking out of Glee, and although he couldn't help but wonder what had prompted Blaine to make Kurt his community service project, he was still touched by his persistence.  _A friend,_ he thought, _like me._ It was comforting to know that Blaine had been there; Blaine understood what he was going through.

Then the phone was knocked out of his hand, and Kurt was slammed back into the bank of lockers, Karofsky's glare retreating before him down the hallway. It might have been Blaine's texts, but Kurt decided later that it was the frustration of all the things he wasn't getting that drove him to follow Dave into the locker room.

"Hey!" he shouted, at the top of his lungs. "I'm talking to you!"

"Girls' locker room is next door," said Dave, not even bothering to look at him.

"What is your  _problem?"_  he snapped, crossing to stand beside him. Dave took a step back.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. What are you so scared of?"

Dave sneered. "Besides you, sneaking in here to take a peek at my junk?"

Kurt had had enough of being jerked around by football players. He gave up on trying to keep control of his emotions. "Oh, yeah, every straight guy's nightmare, that all us gays are out to molest and convert you. Well, guess what, hamhock? You're not my type."

Dave's chin went up. "That right?"

"Yeah. I don't dig on chubby boys who sweat too much and who're going to be bald by the time they're thirty." Kurt's imagination was all too aware of exactly the kind of boy he  _did_  dig on, no matter how improbable or pointless his desire might have turned out to be. He just took an angry pleasure in seeing the hurt on Dave's face.

"Do  _not_  push me, Hummel," he said through gritted teeth, raising his fist threateningly.

"You gonna hit me?" Kurt barely gave it a glance. "Do it."

"Don't push me," he repeated, slamming the locker.

"Because it's not going to change who I am. You can't punch the gay out of me any more than I can punch the ignoramus out of you."

" _Get out of my face!"_  screamed Dave, but Kurt wasn't budging. All the words he couldn't say to Noah were streaming out of his mouth, and he didn't feel even the tiniest bit bad about taking his anger out on Karofsky.

He brandished a shaking finger in Dave's face. "You are nothing but a scared little boy who can't handle how extraordinarily ordinary you are!"

And then Dave's hands were clutching Kurt's face, nearly identically to the way in which Kurt had imagined himself holding Noah's cheeks just last week in the meeting room at juvie, and before he could react, Dave was kissing him. All Kurt could think was  _Wait, no! This wasn't the way it was supposed to be. You don't get to steal my first kiss._

Dave pulled away, his face accusing, and then he leaned in to close the space between them again. With both hands, Kurt pushed Dave away as hard as he could. One hand crept up to his face to shield his mouth.

The expression on Dave's face was so hurt, so impossibly  _familiar_  that Kurt wanted to tell him,  _I'm sorry, you can't have this, and I know how much it sucks to want something and to not be able to have it,_ but no words would come out.

Dave slammed his hand against the locker with a tiny cry of despair, making Kurt flinch. Then he headed for the door without another word, leaving Kurt standing there alone. Whatever images, pleasant or distracting, had been present in his mind earlier that day, they'd been erased, overwritten by Karofsky's act of theft.

He managed to stumble through the rest of his day without drawing too much attention to himself, trying to allow himself to be caught up by ordinary things. But every now and then, Kurt would feel Dave's hands on his face, Dave's lips on his, and he would have to stop what he was doing and swallow hard to keep from losing his lunch.

When school was over and he made his way back to his car, Kurt sat there for several long minutes, feeling more numb than anything else. Numb and  _stupid,_  to have put himself into a situation where he could have allowed Karofsky to take advantage of him like that. He felt a twisting pain at the thought, and found himself reaching for his phone to text Noah. Surely, Noah would understand. He would dig himself out of whatever hole he'd buried himself in, and -

And Kurt saw there, on the screen, Blaine's latest  _Courage_  text, and he burst into tears.

When they subsided, he put his phone back into his pocket and drove home.

* * *

Blaine arrived at McKinley after Glee the next morning, after Figgins had summoned Noah and Mr. Schue to his office for unknown reasons. Kurt introduced Blaine to Mercedes and Tina, telling himself he certainly wasn't hovering outside the main office to find out what was going on with Noah.

"It's a lot like the school I went to before Dalton," said Blaine, nodding at the traffic in the hallway as they walked. "So where's this guy? I want to give him a chance to tell his story, if he's willing, but I need him to know you're serious about leaving you alone, too."

Kurt smiled gratefully at Blaine's earnest efforts. "He's in calculus this hour, so he'll be coming down the south stairs. We can probably catch him if we head up there now. But - Blaine, I really don't think he -"

"Hey," said Blaine, putting a hand on Kurt's shoulder. "Courage, remember? Let me take care of this."

The door to the office swung open and Noah stormed out, pushing past three students and heading up the staircase at a run. Kurt watched him go with an anxious knot in his stomach. Blaine tracked his gaze.

"Friend of yours?"

"Not really," Kurt muttered, shaking his head. "He - it's not important."

They found Karofsky on the stairs, and Blaine was courageous indeed. Even when Karofsky slammed him Blaine against the wall, threatening, "Do  _not_  mess with me," Blaine's only response was to laugh and say, "Well, he's not coming out anytime soon."

Kurt watched him retreat and dropped to the stairs. He could feel his hands shaking. Blaine took a seat next to him. "Hey. What's going on? Why are you so upset?"

"Because..." Kurt sighed regretfully. "Up until yesterday, I had never been kissed. At least not one that counted."

Blaine nodded understanding. "Well, maybe there just hasn't been anyone that counted yet. Doesn't mean there never will be."

"No. That's the worst part. There is, and he..." Kurt looked away, not wanting to see Blaine's sympathy. "He doesn't. I mean, I thought he did, but... he doesn't want that. And I kept waiting, thinking,  _it's not the right time..._  and now..."

"You wish you hadn't waited?"

Kurt nodded. "And now it's too late."

Blaine smiled. "Come on. I'll buy you lunch, and you can tell me all about him."

Blaine was a good listener, and the more Kurt told him about Noah, the more he felt like he should go back to the beginning and start over. But eventually he thought he'd disclosed enough of their embarrassing, tenuous friendship for Blaine to get a sense of what was going on. He ground to a halt and took his first bite of panini, realizing Blaine had already eaten nearly all of his.

"So my question is..." Blaine swallowed and wiped his mouth. "Why do you feel like it doesn't count unless it's perfect? I mean, this is life. It's not the movies; it's not the stage. It's messy and complicated, and things go wrong, but we just keep going, right? There's no  _take two_ or dress rehearsal. We're always making our movie, every moment. Wouldn't it be better just to say, okay, this is where I am, this is what I want, and I'm going to take it from here?"

Kurt nodded. "Of course it would. But I think I've been holding on to this wish for too long to feel like it doesn't matter. Even if Karofsky never talked to me again, I'd still know I could never have my first kiss over again."

"But like you said, you'd had kisses before. Ones that apparently didn't count. Why can't this be one of those? Can't you decide what counts and what doesn't?"

"Maybe." Kurt struggled through another bite of sandwich, but finally he put it down. The confrontation with Karofsky that afternoon had him feeling vaguely sick. "I think I'd feel more like I could do that if I thought I could walk up to Noah and say,  _Okay, this happened, and can you just kiss me now already?_  But he won't even talk to me." He shook his head. "I just feel like there must be something wrong with me."

"Kurt. No." Blaine's voice was far too kind, and it made it that much harder to keep from crying. "I mean, I just met you, and I already know you're pretty awesome. It sounds like Noah thought so, too, even until recently. I think you're going to have to accept that something outside of your control interfered with Noah's ability to deal with his feelings for you. That doesn't mean the feelings have gone away. You just need to give him a chance to come to terms with whatever it was, and to come back and talk to you about it."

He drove Kurt back to McKinley and dropped him off on the bus loop, looking regretful. "Hey, I'm sorry David wasn't ready to listen. Maybe another time. But I'm glad I got to hear about your guy, and I'll be crossing my fingers for you."

Kurt smiled at Blaine. He wondered if Blaine had been serious about getting credit for helping him through this crisis. He certainly seemed more personally invested than he should have, given the circumstances. "Thank you," he said. "Really. You've been so kind."

"I'll be thinking of you, Kurt. Stay in touch." With a wave, he drove off.

Kurt felt better the rest of the day, and even managed to walk past Karofsky in the hall once without freaking out. But when Noah didn't show up for study hall, he got worried.

"Did you see Noah in geometry?" he whispered to Quinn. She shook her head. Kurt stood and went to the front of the room.

"Did Noah Puckerman leave early today?" he asked Ms. Ryan. She shook her head, checking the attendance record.

"He was marked absent, and I didn't get a note. Don't worry about Puckerman."

Kurt felt angry at that, wanting to tell her  _I'll worry about anybody I damn well please, and if anybody needs someone to worry about him, it's Noah._  But he waited out the rest of the hour. When he got down to the first floor to his locker, he saw Noah trading secret handshakes with Artie. He barely had time to wonder what that was about before Karofsky slammed him into the bank of lockers again.

"You okay, Kurt?" It was Artie, pausing beside him to give him a hand up. Kurt glared down the hall to the spot where Karofsky had disappeared.

"You know, the worst part isn't being pushed around," Kurt told him. "The worst part is how many people walk right by every time and pretend like nothing's wrong. Like they don't even  _notice._ "

"Everybody's scared, man," said Artie. "The only people who're gonna stick their necks out for you are your friends, and even they get scared and self-involved sometimes."

Kurt nodded. "Is Noah - I saw you talking to him. Is everything okay? He missed study hall."

"I think so, now?" Artie glanced down the hallway. "He was going to skip town, but I convinced him to stay. He has to pick up garbage on the highway for the next six weeks after school for community service, and I told him I'd tutor him in geometry while he does it."

"I don't get it," said Kurt, wrinkling his brow. "Why are you being nice to him after he left you at Breadsticks?"

" 'Cause he needs a friend. Maybe nobody ever taught him how to do it the right way. I don't know, maybe I'm a pushover, but I think everybody deserves a chance. Even a lot of chances. And I don't think Puck has had many of them." Artie watched him curiously. "Don't you think so?"

"I -" He paused. "I guess I'm afraid that if I give people too many chances, they'll take advantage of me."

"Maybe. But if you don't wait for the right moment, maybe you never really gave them the kind of chance they needed?" Artie shrugged. "I'm not hurting myself by trying to be Puck's friend. Seems like he needs a good influence right now."

Kurt hesitated, then screwed up his courage and said, "I think you might be the only person he's listening to right now. I think something might have happened to him, in juvie. Would you try to get him to talk to you about it?"

Artie cocked his head. "Sure," he said. "How -?"

He shook his head. "I'm really not sure I can tell you. Maybe Noah will. You can tell him I said it was okay, if he does."

It felt a little easier after that for Kurt to walk past Noah in the hallway and be ignored. He still didn't know what kind of burden Noah was carrying, but at least he knew Artie might be around to help him shoulder it.

* * *

After that, Kurt started meeting Blaine at the Lima Bean for coffee as often as Blaine was willing to drive up. He tried to suggest they meet halfway for a while, but Blaine assured him there was really nothing in Bellefontaine or Marysville worth doing. "I don't mind the hour and a half drive," he said. "Maybe your dad would let you come down to Columbus sometime. We could go dancing at Wallstreet."

"Sure," he said, smiling. It was a little breathtaking the way Blaine tossed out ideas like this, as though it was not only ordinary to invite another boy to a dance club - a gay dance club, he suspected - but to assume that the other boy would accept.

Kurt soon discovered that he and Blaine had a lot of things in common beyond music, including fashion and Broadway. He loved hearing about Kurt's involvement in theater, although he himself had never done anything other than sing.

"I like being on stage, but Dalton's academics are pretty tough," Blaine told him. "I have to work hard to keep up. They might still make me repeat a year. But I really feel like I'm  _learning_  things. It's amazing how much easier that is to do when you're not afraid for your safety. Or your sanity."

Kurt soon realized the way the Warblers managed their glee club was completely different from the way Mr. Schue handled things. "We don't have a director," Blaine explained. "It's run by the council, upperclassmen who are elected. I'm the head soloist, by appointment. Next year the council might choose someone else. I'm just honored they chose me, a junior."

"You're very talented," said Kurt, and he wasn't kidding. Blaine was as much a showman as Noah, but far more humble about it. Kurt wasn't sure if his self-esteem was really that much healthier than any other teenage boy's. He was a good listener, but Kurt noticed he seldom shared much about himself.

"I like performing." Blaine put his hand into his pocket and pulled out two tickets. "I probably should have asked you before I got these, but... they're doing RENT down at the Dayton Opera House. Greg Evigan is playing Roger."

"Wow. Isn't he kind of old for that part?" Kurt took the tickets, trying not to feel anxious. "Um... Blaine, are you... asking me on a date? Because I'm not sure I'm ready for that."

Blaine smiled, shaking his head. "Consider it a good luck charm, toward future relationships. Ones where you won't have to feel worried if you should kiss him or not. What do you say?"

"I say yes, if my dad says yes, and I don't see why he wouldn't." Kurt paused. "I did mention that Noah's father works for the Opera House?"

"You did. Is this going to be too weird for you, Kurt?"

"Maybe," said Kurt. "But I don't think it's weird enough to keep me from wanting to see RENT. Just be aware I might freak out."

"Duly noted," Blaine agreed. "And I'll take that as a yes, precluding a yes from your dad. How are things going in Glee? Did you find your twelfth member yet?"

Kurt swirled his nonfat mocha. "Everything's on hold until Mr. Schue recovers from pneumonia. I found us a substitute teacher for Glee. And before you say anything, she's remarkable, but... she seems to think school is an excuse for a party? I'm not saying I don't like singing Cee Lo, but she gave Noah the answers to the pop quiz she gave in Spanish. To me, there's a line, and I think she may have crossed it."

Blaine's smile was amused. "You've got a strong moral sense, Kurt. I think it's kind of adorable."

Kurt tried not to be offended by this, but it was hard to stay annoyed at Blaine when he was grinning at him like that. "Well... I should get going. I'll text you later about RENT." He gave Blaine a hug and waved as he headed out the door.

It occurred to Kurt later that he hadn't thought to ask Blaine if their coffee trips were dates. They felt far too much like the kind of thing he would do with Mercedes or Finn than what he'd always wanted to have with Noah. It was a relief to know Blaine hadn't intended them to be.

When Mercedes came out with them on Thursday, Kurt had just as much fun talking with Blaine, but on the way home she let out a huge sigh. "God, talk about awkward. I have never felt more like a third wheel."

"What? No way. I mean, I was so glad you came out with us."

"I'm talking about  _Blaine,_ " she assured him. "Kurt, he's into you. Trust me, it's obvious."

"No, he said... it wasn't a date." Kurt shook his head, trying to convince himself, because yeah, it really  _did_  feel like Blaine wanted it to be a date, and that made him feel even weirder about his plans to go to Dayton with him on Friday. "I think I have to take him at face value. If he says it's not, it's not."

"Hey, Kurt. Blaine's a catch. If he wants to go out with you, I say who cares if you think it's a date? Enjoy it. If it turns into something more, isn't that a good thing?"

_Not if I'm in love with somebody else,_  Kurt thought miserably.  _Somebody I can't even talk about._  For somebody who prided himself on being as open and out as he could be, Kurt felt an awful lot like Noah had him locked in the closet.

* * *

His dad did say yes, when he asked, but he sat Kurt down and asked him a lot of questions about Blaine - if he was a good driver (reasonably so), and what his parents did (something in business, Kurt thought, and why should that matter?). Eventually, though, it became clear what his dad was getting at.

"It's not a date, Dad," said Kurt. Burt nodded.

"I'm just worried about you, Kurt. After that stuff with Noah - I still don't really know what happened there -"

"I know," he sighed. "I don't either. And I don't think I will, unless he decides to start talking to me again."

"Yeah, well, I just see how unhappy you are, and I don't want you thinking that another boy is the solution to that. You're great, all by yourself, Kurt. Okay?"

Kurt thought this was precious coming from a man who was practically engaged, but he nodded. "I told Blaine I'm not ready to date anybody. And he knows all about Noah. And... it'll be fine."

He almost told his dad about what was going on with Karofsky, but he knew it wasn't going to go over well. His dad was going to be angry, and after his arrhythmia - well, Kurt really didn't think he could go through that again. It was easier just to keep dealing with it himself.  _I'm gonna kill you_  appeared in his dreams more frequently than romantic scenes with Noah, but he figured that was just his subconscious dealing with it as best as it could.

Blaine came to the house to pick him up, dressed in a bow tie and a very different sort of jacket than the one he wore with his school uniform. He shook Kurt's dad's hand and smiled and talked about football until Kurt was shifting from foot to foot.

"We should probably get on the road," he said. "We'll stop on the way home if we get too tired."

"I'm not worried," said Burt, and Kurt had to restrain himself from staring at him. He mentioned it to Blaine in the car.

"My dad's never  _not_  worried before," he explained. "Apparently you're some new breed of teenager."

"I usually put parents at ease," said Blaine modestly. "I think it's the clean-cut look."

Kurt sat with that idea for a few minutes, trying not to be offended by what Blaine had said, but he wasn't sure exactly what bothered him so much about it until he remembered Artie's comments last week about Noah not knowing how to be a friend.

"You think Noah's a bad influence on me," he said.

Blaine looked surprised. "I didn't say that, Kurt. I think you're probably a good influence on him, though."

Kurt thought about the boy who had offered to come over to his house when Finn had called him nasty names. That boy had been a perfect gentleman, calming him down, keeping his hands to himself, respecting Kurt's boundaries while giving him everything he needed. He felt the anger rising inside him, about to be inappropriately directed at Blaine, and decided to keep quiet.

The opera house was as beautiful as Kurt had remembered. Blaine smiled as Kurt told him about the vast prop warehouse in the basement.

"Do you think we could sneak down there afterwards?" he whispered excitedly.

"Maybe," Kurt allowed. He felt reluctant to share that experience with Blaine, remembering finding Noah in the dark by following the sound of his voice, reciting Duke Orsino's soliloquy about love. He smiled.

"What?" Blaine asked, smiling too. Kurt shook his head.

"I was really an idiot for not realizing Noah was in love with me. Even as far back as ninth grade, he was definitely hitting on me, and I was just stuck on the idea that he was straight. I never even asked him; that's how sure I was."

"Well, maybe he is," Blaine said, shrugging.

Kurt laughed. "Uh,  _no._  I asked him a month ago to define his sexuality, and he said he was gay. When I asked him why not bi, he said something like, 'I know what my fantasies are like, and they don't include girls.'"

Blaine looked pensive. "I think I might put myself somewhere along the Kinsey Scale, and I can objectively find girls beautiful, or even sexy... but I still identify as gay. I just can't imagine myself with a woman long term."

"I tried making out with a girl. Once."

"Yeah?" Blaine grinned. "How was that?"

Kurt remembered Brittany's running commentary about boys and how they tasted. "I think I was kind of vaguely turned on by the idea that she'd once kissed Noah. Well, and everybody else in the school, but maybe that didn't matter so much? That was about as far as it went for me."

"Well." Blaine clasped his hands together around his knee, looking as prissy as any man Kurt had ever seen. "I've made out with a few girls, but I admit I was really drunk every time, and I don't think I would choose to do it if I  _weren't_  drunk."

"I guess I always figured if I needed to take a drug to enjoy something, I probably shouldn't be doing it," said Kurt.

"No, but you're more courageous than the average boy," Blaine told him. "I really admire you, Kurt."

Kurt flushed as the house lights dimmed. "That means a lot, coming from you."

He'd watched the movie production of RENT enough times to know the show by heart, but he hadn't realized how different the stage production would seem when viewing it live. He found himself remembering Mr. Puckerman's words about  _performers must use their words and bodies to make you forget there is a stage._

He was bawling before the middle of the first act, and when Blaine offered his hand, he grasped it tight and didn't let go. At intermission, Blaine waited while Kurt blew his nose and wiped his eyes, then asked gently, "Do you need anything? Some water, maybe?"

"Maybe," he said, his voice wobbly. Blaine walked with him to the lobby.

"It affected me that way the first time I saw it, too," Blaine assured him.

Kurt wasn't sure how to ask why it wasn't affecting him  _this_  time, but he knew well enough that emotions weren't something anyone could control or predict.

He was admiring the hat the woman across the lobby was wearing when he saw Noah. Kurt immediately became aware of all the skin on his body, both the way he fit inside the tailored jacket and pants he was wearing, and the way that skin was containing all the emotions that loomed large inside him. He clutched at Blaine's arm to keep from stumbling into the woman in front of them.

Noah was watching Kurt intently, his jaw set in what looked like anger, but he didn't approach them until Blane noticed Kurt looking at him and let out a little laugh. "Small world. That's Noah, right?"

"Everybody calls him Puck," Kurt rasped, his throat dry, and drank the entire cup of water Blaine pressed into his hands.

Noah looked fantastic in his suit; Kurt tried not to stare at his shoulders, but he could already tell what would feature in his dreams that night.  _God._

"Hey," said Blaine, stepping in front of Kurt before Noah could say a word, holding out his hand. "I'm Kurt's friend, Blaine. He's told me a lot about you."

"Yeah, he's got a big mouth." Noah looked Blaine up and down, then turned his glare on Kurt. "Where'd you find  _him?_ "

"Blaine is a member of the Warblers," said Kurt, his voice coming out far too high and sharp. "Remember?  _You_  told me to go check them out."

"Fuck, Kurt, I didn't mean you should bring him home." Noah's brow furrowed. Then he grinned and took Blaine's hand, still extended. "Call me Puck."

"I'm glad to meet you," said Blaine. "And it's not a date. I knew Kurt had been wanting to see RENT, and I happened to get tickets -"

"Yeah, to a sold out show." Noah snorted quietly. "Subtle. What do you think so far?"

The question wasn't clearly directed to anyone, but Kurt picked up on the challenge. "I've been crying since 'Life Support,'" he said. "Angel is spectacular, and Joanne has the best voice, but I thought the staging in 'La Vie Boheme' was particularly good."

"Yeah, sharp choreography. And check it out: I watched  _La bohème_ on BBC in juvie, and dude. That song, 'Light My Candle?' That whole scene is straight out of the fucking opera." Noah's grin had broadened, but he seemed to realize he was relaxing and the smile vanished.

"You like opera?" Blaine asked. The question was harmless enough, but Noah bristled anyway.

"Yeah. So what?"

"Nothing. I think it's great. I don't really know much about opera myself, but I suppose RENT is an opera of sorts, isn't it?"

"Technically." Noah looked like he wanted to sneer, but he looked back at Kurt and subsided. "Well, I'm glad you got to see it, anyway. Catch you dudes later."

"Noah," Kurt said, and Noah paused, on the edge of flight. Kurt watched him scowling. "Can we talk? For just a minute?"

"I don't know if this is really the place," Blaine murmured. Kurt felt his anger flare. He'd never cared for anybody trying to handle him, and he didn't like it any better coming from Blaine.

"Please," he asked again.

Noah was very still. Finally he sighed and walked toward the side hallway that housed his father's office. Kurt cast Blaine a look that begged his understanding, but Blaine was already nodding, withdrawing.

"I'll see you back at our seats, Kurt," said Blaine. "Nice to meet you, Puck."

The office looked almost exactly the same as it had the last time Kurt had seen it, except the pile of mail on the desk had grown, and there was a fine layer of dust on the desk. Noah closed the door behind him.

"Say what you have to say," he said. "You've got less than fifteen minutes until curtain."

Kurt wrapped his arms around himself. "You're not going to tell me about what happened?"

"No."

"So something did happen."

Noah mouth twitched. "You're not going to trick me into talking about it, Kurt, so don't even bother to try."

"I'm just worried about you, Noah -"

"I'm  _fine,_ " he snapped, his eyes showing Kurt exactly how  _fine_  he was.

"Yeah, you think that's going to get me to back off? I'm a lot more stubborn than you are, believe me. Whatever you're feeling, I still love you just as much as I ever did." Kurt watched Noah flinch a little at the words  _love you._  "You don't want to hear it?"

"No," he whispered.

Whether that meant  _no, I don't want to hear it,_  or  _no, I do,_ Kurt didn't really care. He took a step forward, and when Noah didn't back away, another.

"Something happened to me, too," said Kurt. "But you have to swear you won't do anything if I tell you what it was. No vigilante crap, got it?"

Noah's eyes widened. "You - Kurt?"

"Promise," he insisted, even as Noah came forward and grabbed his arms. Kurt caught his breath, wondering how this kind of interaction could feel so incredibly different from the way it had been with Karofsky.

Noah's eyes trailed a quick path from the top of Kurt's head down his body and back up. Kurt felt it like a touch, his body awakening to Noah's closeness, his scent, all the things he'd denied he still wanted, but in the moment could not have ignored if he'd tried.

"Did he hurt you?" Noah demanded.

"No. He -" He didn't even need to say who it was, because Noah apparently knew, but he had to say the whole thing, to make sure there was no confusion. "Karofsky - I confronted him. Yelled at him. And he - kissed me."

Noah was watching him, listening with tense focus. "Yeah?"

"That's it. He tried to again, but I pushed him away, and he left."

Kurt watched Noah's body slowly relax. "That's all?"

"All? God, Noah, it was my  _first kiss._  It was - you know how I felt about that, how much I - I was saving that." He gave Noah a pained look. "For  _you."_

"Yeah," Noah said. He loosened his grasp on Kurt's shoulders. "I know. But... Kurt." He reached up and touched Kurt's face, his expression completely sober. "It could have been so much worse."

Kurt felt something inside him go cold at Noah's words. "You," he whispered.

Noah shook his head, his face saying  _I can't, don't push this,_  even as his hand came up around the back of Kurt's neck, cupping it firmly. His other arm hand slid around to rest on the small of his back. Kurt felt his own body going loose in Noah's arms, every romance novel trope brought to life, right there in Aaron Puckerman's dusty office. All he could focus on were Noah's lips, murmuring gentle words:

"I should have done this two years ago."

Those lips, pressed to his, felt nothing like the ones he'd previously kissed. Brittany's lips had been soft and pliant and moist, in a somewhat uncomfortable way. Karofsky's had been hard and tight, as much controlled as controlling, and not erotic at all. But Noah held back only long enough to make sure Kurt wasn't telling him to stop - and  _god,_  he wasn't, not stopping - and then, with a strangled groan, his hand was in Kurt's hair and his mouth open, his tongue seeking impatient entry into Kurt's mouth.

Kurt had always watched people kissing with a kind of fascinated distaste. He'd found the chaste touch of lips beautiful and romantic, but anything that remotely brought to mind the phrase  _swapping spit_  was enough to make him shudder and avert his eyes. But this, what Noah was doing with his lips and tongue - every movement seemed to be directly linked to his cock and his ass. Each thrust had him pressing into Noah's hip, grinding against him with a desperate whine. This noise seemed only to inspire Noah to grip his ass more firmly and bury his hand in the back of Kurt's hair, jerking it back.

"Yes?" Noah asked.

" _Yes,"_  Kurt responded instantly, "yes,  _god,_ please."

Those were the only words Noah let him utter, as he drove Kurt up against the back of the door, protecting the back of his head with one hand. Kurt couldn't do much more than hang on, but Noah wasn't impeding the movement of his hands, and he found them running over every square inch of Noah's body, all the parts of him that he had dreamed of touching for so long. He started with his shoulders, but quickly moved to his neck, his back, his chest. The sensation of Noah's tense abdomen under his fingers had him scrambling to untuck his shirt, and Noah paused long enough to assist him with this.

"You gonna tell me to stop?" Noah asked again. Kurt shook his head, gazing up at him, and Noah kissed him again, harder this time. Kurt tried to quiet the noises coming from his mouth, but they were kind of desperate and needy, and he could tell Noah was completely getting off on them. Noah fixed his body against Kurt's, squeezing his ass, and set up a measured, very intentional rhythm, thrusting into the hollow of his hip.

"Talk to me," he demanded, moving his mouth to Kurt's neck.

"W-what?" Kurt gasped, the pressure of Noah's teeth on his skin far more erotic than he'd ever expected.

"Anything. Your voice." His breathing was heavy and uneven, familiar to Kurt's memory from all the time last summer they spent on the phone together. "Just - talk to me."

He tucked his hand inside Noah's shirt, wedging into the space left by Noah's insistent thrusts. "You're - you feel so good, Noah... I've been dreaming about you for so long... wanting, so much..."

Noah groaned. "Tell me?"

"Your hands... your - you, inside me..."

"Yeah, babe, you know I want that..." He moved his mouth to Kurt's ear, panting hard. "Wanna fuck you, so good - oh,  _fuck,_ Kurt -"

Noah rolled his forehead down to rest on Kurt's neck, both hands grasping his hips now, and Kurt felt a spot of warmth bloom on his hip where Noah was thrusting. He couldn't quite come to terms with what was happening, but before he could pull away, Noah's fingers were deftly undoing Kurt's zipper, letting his pants slither down to pool around his ankles.

"We can't really do that now, but god, I really want to, believe me." One arm moved around Kurt's back and under his shoulder, holding him up, while the other slipped deep into his briefs to cup his balls. Kurt cried out at the brush of Noah's fingers, and they grasped his cock in a loose, easy grasp, finally beginning to stroke him. "And I know we're in a hurry, but I'll be damned if I'm gonna let you out of here without getting you off. You just tell me, faster, slower, harder - anything you want."

"Oh god." Kurt's eyes drifted down to rest on the dark, moist spot near the waistband of Noah's pants, then to the completely improbable sight of Noah's hand inside his underwear. "This - I want this, just -" Kurt felt the muscles of his ass clench hard, and he rolled his hips forward to feel the pressure. "A little faster - god, Noah..."

"Yeah, babe," said Noah, his voice rich with satisfaction and desire. "That's it. God, you're so hot, so fucking perfect, look at you... c'mon, babe..."

Kurt clutched at Noah's shoulders, his broad chest feeling so much more solid than he'd expected, firm and broad and slick with sweat. "Please," he begged.

"Anything," Noah said again, his eyes on Kurt's.

He strained forward, feeling the sensation building. "Just kiss me."

The touch of Noah's mouth set off a cascade of responses, and Kurt felt his body buck forward, once, before he gasped and came hard into Noah's hand.

As soon as Noah felt his body start to uncoil, he eased his hand out of Kurt's briefs and zipped him back up. Kurt's knees trembled as Noah lowered him down to sit on the floor. He grabbed a dented box of tissues from his dad's desk and knelt beside Kurt, watching his face closely as he wiped Kurt's come off his hand.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice soft. Kurt nodded, waiting for the thundering in his chest to subside. "That was... fuck. Kurt, I - I really didn't want it to be like that."

Kurt raised shaking hands and draped them against Noah's chest. "That... was  _hot."_

Noah laughed, sounding relieved. "Yeah. Really hot, and - and, I promise, Kurt, it'll be better next time."

He felt his face break into a smile, just as the lights pulsed once, indicating the end of intermission. "Next time?" he echoed.

"Yeah," Noah said. "Fuck, yeah. Lots of next times." He leaned in and kissed him, gently now. "That sound okay to you?"

"Yes," Kurt said, without thinking. "Yes, it sounds - amazing, and - I should really get back to Blaine."

Noah grinned as he helped Kurt to his feet. Kurt could only imagine what he saw, and tried in vain to repair his hairstyle with his fingers. "You know there's no way he's not going to know what happened."

"Um. Yeah." Kurt felt his face heating, as the reality of what they'd done hit home. He followed Noah out into the hallway and back to the lobby, tucking in his shirt before they emerged. The usher raised an eyebrow at Noah as he passed.

"Don't you say one fucking word," Noah ordered, and the usher choked on a laugh, gesturing for Kurt to go down the aisle. Noah grabbed Kurt's hand. "I'll find you afterwards."

"Yeah," Kurt said, feeling the pressure of words unsaid on his lips. He decided he was done with waiting for the perfect moment. "I - I love you."

Noah sighed, ducking his head in embarrassment. Kurt thought for a moment he was going to take off, but then Noah tugged on his hand and pulled him into a tight hug. "I love you, too."

Kurt let himself rest in that embrace for just another moment before letting him go. Noah's face was rueful.

"You're gonna embarrass the crap out of me, aren't you?" he said.

"I won't," Kurt protested. "I just - I had to say it. Before the chance got away again. I won't - again."

Noah's cocky smile was so familiar, it almost made Kurt cry. "Hey, fuck that. You'd  _better."_  He squeezed Kurt's hand one more time, then headed down the dark aisle toward a seat on the rear left.

Kurt managed to find his way to his seat and settled in next to Blaine just as the orchestra was beginning 'Seasons of Love.'

Blaine looked concerned. "Is everything okay?"

"I - think so," said Kurt. He sat there in his seat, feeling the difference inside him, weighing the losses and gains, and coming up with a net positive. He smiled at Blaine. "Yeah. I think it's going to be."

Kurt expected the second half of  _RENT_  to be intensely sad, beginning with the death of Angel, but it was Roger and Mark singing the bitter words of 'Goodbye Love' that reduced him to tears again:

_Mark's in love with his work_  
 _Mark hides in his work_  
 _From what? From facing your failure_  
 _Facing your loneliness_  
 _Facing the fact you live a lie_  
 _Yes, you live a lie, tell you why_  
 _You're always preaching not to be numb_  
 _When that's how you thrive_  
 _You pretend to create and observe  
_ _When you really detach from feeling alive_

He felt Blaine reach for his hand several times, but holding it felt wrong now that Kurt knew so clearly whose hand he'd rather be holding. Blaine cried through the end, and accepted Kurt's damp handkerchief with thanks.

"Did it measure up?" he asked, when the show was over. "To the ones you'd seen before?"

"I wasn't sure at first," said Blaine, standing and stretching his legs, "but the second act blew me away. What about you? I mean - I know you haven't seen it before, but..." He gave Kurt a curious smile. "Did you... enjoy it?"

Kurt tried valiantly to ignore his heated cheeks. "It was so much better than I ever could have expected it to be."

"I'm glad." He walked with Kurt back to the lobby, pausing out of the flow of traffic. His eyes went to Noah, approaching them. "Um - would it be okay if I asked Noah to give you a ride home? It would save me a couple hours drive, and... I can call you tomorrow." Blaine watched Kurt closely. "If that would be all right with you."

Kurt turned to face Noah, who came to stand beside him. Noah took one cursory glance around them, then reached out and took Kurt's hand. "Hey," he said, his eyes on Blaine in a clear challenge.

Blaine looked startled, but as he saw the blush on Kurt's face, he offered them a tentative smile. "I was just asking Kurt if maybe he could get a ride home with you."

Noah nodded. "Yeah, that'd be fine."

Kurt nodded, too, not trusting his voice. Blaine took one more look at Kurt's hand holding Noah's, and stepped away, waving.

"Call me," he said. "Drive safe."

As soon as Blaine was out of sight, Kurt dropped his gaze to their joined hands, then back up to meet Noah's, smiling. Noah rolled his eyes.

"Fuck, babe," he said. "Yeah, I've been out here for years. Why the hell not."

While theater attendees milled around them, Noah pulled Kurt close, clasping him to his chest. Kurt rested his head just below Noah's shoulder, listening to his pulse, strong and steady.

"Still okay?" he heard Noah murmur, under the noise of the crowd.

"Still," he agreed, letting Noah feel his affirmative nod even if he couldn't hear him. "Please."

He knew being like this was for him - that Noah was giving him this, and it wouldn't be this way everywhere. But Kurt couldn't help but believe Noah was doing it for himself, at least a little. He could feel it in the way his shoulders relaxed, in the way Noah ran his hands over Kurt's back, and the little sigh he made. It gave Kurt hope. He lifted his face, and saw that Noah's was streaked with dried tears.

"Thank you," he said.

Noah nodded. He dropped a brief kiss to Kurt's cheek, and whispered, "Thank you, babe."

The crowd was starting to diminish. Kurt followed Noah back to his dad's office to lock the door and turn off the lights, then out the back past the stage door. Kurt was startled to discover Greg Evigan standing outside, smoking and talking with the woman who'd played Maureen.

"Hey, Noah," she said, giving Kurt an appraising glance. "You guys enjoy the show?"

"Best I've seen in a while," he replied. "How about you, babe?"

"Um." Kurt held out his program to Evigan, who took it. "Could I - get your autograph?"

Noah chuckled as he let Kurt into the passenger side of his cold truck. "Didn't know you were such a fan."

"It's more - to remember the occasion," Kurt said, but Noah was already laughing. He slammed his door shut, then leaned across the seat and gave Kurt an emphatic kiss. Kurt found himself shifting across the seat until he was pressed against Noah, already feeling his body's response. He smiled, wide-eyed and amazed.

"Definitely an occasion to remember," Noah agreed.

* * *

<http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hG83GAGGfy4>

_Like a fall leaf from a tall tree landing on the grass_  
 _Like the white sand turns the clock in any hour glass  
_ _You're the reason I believe in something I don't know_

_You make it so, you make it so, you make it so easy  
_ _This letting go is so beautiful, cause you make it so easy, to fall so hard, to fall so hard_

_Like the ocean pulls the tide and just to hold me close_  
 _Like the rain pour in a rainstorm makes the flowers grow  
_ _You're the reason I believe in something I don't know_

_You make it so, you make it so, you make it so easy  
_ _This letting go is so beautiful, cause you make it so easy, to fall so hard, oh oh oh_

_You're the reason I believe in something I don't know_

_\- Philip Phillips, "So Easy"_


End file.
